#he oozes of that boyish energy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mochegato · 10 months

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Champagne Tango

The club was raging. Even for a weekend night, it was busy. They had exceeded capacity an hour ago, but people were still lined up down the street. Anyone who mattered in Gotham’s black underbelly, and even a good portion of the ‘legitimate’ influencers, were there, yet Jason’s eyes kept going back to the woman sitting at the bar, a woman who for all intents and purposes had no established influence in Gotham. And yet, he couldn’t force his attention away from her.

He had no idea who she was, but the perfectly tailored, silky, green dress that clung to her curves in all the right places revealing a hint of her curves without exposing too much, suggested she had money or connections or both. By all appearances, she should be a player, but there was nobody in Gotham who mattered, illegitimate or not, that he didn’t know, which meant either she was brand new to Gotham, or she was that rare specimen; a legitimate, hardworking, person who wasn’t working an angle.

He tried to focus on the club, he really did. The club needed it with all the activity going on and competing factions present. But his eyes kept shifting unbidden to her spot at the bar, like a beacon of light in the dark night. He would almost focus his attention back onto the rowdy crowd, after all she wasn’t the first woman oozing sensuality in his club, though she might be the most effective, and he had a job to do, but then she would turn his direction, and he would catch sight of her radiant smile and her eyes sparkling with humor and innocence. Every time she would laugh, truly laugh, not just giggle, but truly laugh from her heart, she would throw her head back, her dark hair sweeping back in a mesmerizing cascade of movement that he was powerless to turn away from.

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why she would be in the Iceberg Lounge, in his place. Despite what the crystalline exterior indicated, the club was a beacon to the dark and bitter. The exact opposite of everything she seemed to personify. She could not have been more out of place. He couldn’t even blame it on her date… Partner? Acquaintance. Acquaintance sounded much better. He couldn’t even blame it on her acquaintance, because his energy seemed to match hers; bright and light but his was cloyingly sweet.

Much to his dismay, he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep their eyes off her. He watched as person after person came over to her to strike up a conversation, all lingering a bit longer and a bit closer than he was comfortable with. Quite a few of them he wasn’t comfortable with being in the same building as her let alone close enough to touch her.

Fortunately, he wasn’t alone in his dislike of the attention. The man with her did not look at all happy about that turn of events, glaring daggers at the interlopers and more than once, physically removing them from their presence. But he seemed to be dealing with his fair share of unwanted attention as himself, but he was having none of it, refusing to divert his attention from her, much like Jason.

It was entirely due to that attention that Jason caught the move that set his skin on edge. The man had handed her a drink with a smile and a mischievous glint in his otherwise boyish gaze. Jason had been working with and against low-lives long enough to know that look indicated nothing good was about to follow. Something was about to happen, something the woman wouldn’t particularly enjoy, if he didn’t monitor the situation.

Unfortunately, nobody in the club was willing to allow him to do so. He almost bit his manager’s head off when she mentioned yet another crisis that demanded Jason’s attention. It was like the entirety of Gotham was out to mess with him. He couldn’t catch a break and just fucking breathe… while he intently watched the gorgeous woman whose name he didn’t know.

But as soon as that crisis was averted, another inevitably popped up. Don’t get him wrong, he had no issue with low-lives taking each other out, just not in his club. Doing it in his club left a lot of paperwork for him and it meant even more dealing with police, a task he avoided as much as possible. The endless crises were a constant frustration, one that was putting him more and more on edge until his staff was afraid to report to him.

It was getting late in the night, not quite early hours of the morning when he was finally able to take a moment to return to his observation post, seemingly just in time. The man was intently watching the woman, the mischievous glint had turned diabolical. And the woman was noticeably less in control of her movements, sloppier in her laughs, wider in her smiles. Even without having watched her for most of the night, he would have known something was off.

“Jorge!” he greeted casually, but his voice held a tell-tale tightness the bartender instantly recognized.

Jorge finished making his drink and collecting the money before making his way quickly but nonchalantly to his boss’ side. “Hey, Mr. Todd. What’s going on?”

Rather than directly addressing him, Jason scanned the room as he spoke. “How many has she had?”

“Who?” He looked up and down the bar quickly before his eyes settled on the popular, dark-haired woman at the end of the bar. “Oh, her,” he chuckled. “Only two, boss.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at an insignificant spot on the far wall. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Jorge answered confidently. “She was getting into an argument with her date there over it. He didn’t want her to have any alcohol and then kept trying to talk her out of getting more.”

That made Jason pause. “He was trying to talk her out of it?” he asked carefully.

“Yes, sir. I know what you’re thinking, but if he was trying to get her sloshed to take advantage of her, wouldn’t he be trying to get her drunk?”

Jason hummed in consideration. “Maybe. Or maybe the alcohol would interfere with the drugs he’s using.” He studied her again to catalog any indication of how far gone she was. But he didn’t need to look so closely as in the same moment, she turned toward the man and almost fell into his lap, giggling raucously at the slip. “Have you ever seen anyone that drunk off of two drinks?”

“No,” Jorge admitted begrudgingly. “Not without a bit of assistance.”

Jason nodded in agreement and was moving instantly with a discrete motion to his security when the man eased her up, encouraging her to lean into his embrace as he moved her toward the exit and away from witnesses. The security team had descended on the man, arms pinned to his side and mouth enveloped, before he had taken more than a handful of steps. “Take care of him, as a guest of our establishment,” Jason instructed one of his men, motioning toward the man.

“How severely?” he asked as his men rapidly ushered him off of the floor.

“I don’t have a read on the situation yet. Just hold him for now. Once I find out, I’ll text you.” He watched the woman as she looked around in a circle that she couldn’t seem to break out of, almost stumbling off her heels as her body started to lean a bit too much to one side as she spun. Jason was at her side and supporting her with a hand on her elbow before gravity could take effect.

“I might want to handle it myself,” he growled almost to himself as he turned back to the woman, his scowl fading into a soft smile. “Hey, sweetheart,” he had to fight the chuckle that built up in his chest when she looked up at him just to wrinkle her nose at the name, and he made a mental note not to use that again… unless he wanted to see the cute nose wrinkles again. “I think you should sit down.”

She looked around sloppily, her whole body moving with her head, causing her to stumble deeper into Jason’s embrace, which was the only thing keeping her from falling. She looked back up at him, eyes wide. "Am I not?"

“No, you are not, but you definitely should be.” He helped ease her back onto her seat before he continued. “Look, I’m not going to mince words…”

“Why would you mince words?�� she interrupted, her nose wrinkles making another appearance. “Oh! Do you have mince pies here?” She looked up and down the bar expectantly. “I’d love a mince pie.”

“No,” Jason started slowly. He waited for her to realize there were no mince pies but she continued to search the bar until she stood up on the rungs of the stool so she could lean over the bar, braced on her hands, for a better view. At least until she apparently forgot her hands were supporting her and sloppily shoved the hair that had swung into her face, behind her ear. Jason dove to stop her momentum, only breathing a sigh of relief when he wrapped his arm securely around her waist and yanked her back before she could topple ass over heels behind the bar.

She was right about one thing anyway, he grumbled mentally, she desperately needed something in her stomach to soak up the alcohol. He nodded to Jorge as he eased her back into her seat and waited until she began to eat one of the rolls Jorge placed in front of her before he continued. “What I meant to say was, I think you've been drugged.”

“What?” she gasped loudly, both her hands darting to her mouth a bit harder than she intended, one still holding a roll, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Oh no!” She scrunched her nose. “With mince?”

“With mi…” he exhaled deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No. Not with mince. With your drink.”

She eyed the glass in front of her suspiciously for so long Jason could have sworn she’d forgotten what was going on. “No, that doesn’t sound right,” she shook her head slowly, eyes never leaving the glass. “I didn’t have a lager and that’s a lager glass.”

Jason stared at her for a beat before he could force himself to continue. She could get the glass type right but not follow the conversation. “No,” he corrected patiently and pushed the glass away from her. “That wasn’t your drink…” He paused to allow her to fill in her name, but instead of responding, she continued to stare at the glass accusatorily. “What’s your name?” he prompted.

She turned her accusatory stare from the glass to him. “I’m not telling you my name. I don’t know you and you called me ‘Sweetheart’,” she pouted dramatically even as she ripped a chunk of the roll with more aggression than necessary.

Jason grinned at the expression. “Sorry. I’ll find a better nickname in the future. I’m Jason. Jason Todd.”

She grinned brightly and held out her hand for him. Her eyes were back to sparkling, lighting up this portion of the already well lit bar. “Hi, Jason. I’m Marinette.”

He couldn’t stop the laugh this time as he shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure, Marinette.” He held her hand a few beats longer than necessary but dropped it quickly when he realized what he was doing. “Okay, Marinette, I’d like to see what you were given then take you home.”

She gasped and her eyes lit up even brighter, so bright he swore they could light the way for him to wander through the darkness until he found his way to her. "You're taking me to your home? Ooohhh! I’m so curious what your home looks like." He was about to correct her when she scrunched her nose again and he lost his train of thought. "It isn't all dark and broody like you, is it?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, but she had already looked away and was motioning toward Jorge, who started filling a glass for her. "I have a bet going with Adrien. I said I don't think there's blood stains." She happily took the glass from Jorge with a quick ‘thank you’ and an appreciative grin, which disappeared as soon as she took a sip of the clear liquid. “This doesn’t taste right.”

“No, it does,” Jorge assured her.

“Are you sure?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yep,” Jorge answered with a wink to Jason.

“Where does he think there's blood stains?” Jason interrupted before she could continue.

Marinette took another drink before responding, humming happily at the cool liquid. “Oh, he thinks they're everywhere.”

“I do not have blood stains in my home!” he objected.

“Yay!” she cheered as she bounced in her seat… a little too hard, as it turned out. She didn’t entirely miss the seat on her last bounce, just enough for her to tip off the seat and into Jason, who grabbed her just in time to stop her from landing face first in his lap, and returned her to her seat in one smooth movement. “I win my bet! Adrien owes me a drink,” she continued without missing a beat.

“Yeah, I think you've had quite enough to drink,” he chuckled, his heart still racing slightly from the almost fall even if hers wasn’t.

“I've only had two,” she pouted indignantly and kept pointed eye contact with him as she lifted the glass to her lips.

“Yes, I'm aware. Let's go.” He motioned toward his office.

“Where are we going?" She gasped excitedly. "Are we going to dance?" She grabbed his arm and started to pull him toward the dance floor. “I always wanted to learn to tango.”

“No,” he used her grip in him to direct her back to her chair. He settled his hands on her shoulders. “That song definitely isn’t a tango and you're going home.”

She gasped. “To your home?" She furrowed her brow disapprovingly. "I'm not interested in having sex with you." She turned away to grab her purse, which Jason had to return to the rather distraught owner. "I mean I am, but not tonight. I don't know you. I need to wine and dine you first. I’m more of a coffee shop AU kind of girl than a one-night stand girl anyway. This booty does not receive calls." She paused at the snort Jason let out and turned to him slowly, eyes wide, cheeks darkening. "What I meant to say..."

"Don't worry about it, Pixie,” he waved her off with a chuckle, “you're..."

"…is I’m more of a friends to lovers kind of girl. And you have to meet my friends before we can become lovers. They have to approve. ‘If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends’,” she sang terribly off key and waved her fingers like conducting an orchestra, thrusting her arms far out wider than necessary and almost smacking the woman next to her.

He stared at her. "Right. I’d love to do that. Are your friends nearby now? Can I talk to them?”

“I don’t know why I just sang that song. I hate that song. It’s so annoying,” she pouted as she popped a piece of bread in her mouth… or at least she tried to. The bread missed her mouth spectacularly, flying past her face and hitting the man behind her in the back of his head.

Jason managed to glare the man into submission, waiting until he walked away to return his attention to her, and nodded flippantly. “Yeah, yeah. It worms its way into your brain like Scarecrow’s gas. So, are your fri…”

She turned to him; her expression serious. “I think there may be something in this drink. I can’t taste the food anymore.” He opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut when her nose did the adorable scrunching thing as she returned her focus to her glass, holding it up to the light and examining the liquid suspiciously.

“Why don’t we get a new one,” he offered with a motion to Jorge. “Now, your friends?”

“My friend was around here somewhere,” she trailed off as she looked around the room, her head whipped about uncoordinatedly and suddenly stilled. She scrunched her eyes closed with a groan, seemingly not noticing how her body was lilting to the side.

Jason just managed to get his arm between her and the bar before her body made contact. “Okay, you're going now."

"You're kicking me out?” she gasped, her head whipping toward him and her eyes immediately scrunching closed again with a groan. She grabbed her head, messing up her hair’s perfect Veronica Lake sleekness. “That was a mistake,” she moaned. She slowly lowered her head to the bar and let it rest there for a few moments before taking a deep breath and sitting back up again, her eyes back on Jason, wide and pleading. “I've never been kicked out of anywhere! What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong," he assured her.

She shook her head, eyes starting to turn glassy. "But I must have if you're kicking me out."

"I'm not..." he let out a long, labored breath. "It’s so I can test you for what drugs you were given."

Her eyes that had been glassy moments before were now wide with alarm. "I’ve been drugged? Oh no!"

Jason pressed his lips together so tightly nothing could be seen but a thin white line both from exasperation and trying not to laugh. "Look kid…”

Marinette let out an offended gasp and looked around hastily, attempting to rapidly catalog who was nearby, but quit and rested her head with a groan again almost immediately. Jason rested his chin on his fist and pushed her back into her seat with a weary sigh. She leaned toward Jason to establish some secrecy. “You let kids in here?” she demanded in a slightly louder than normal voice to be heard over the music. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I thought better of you.”

“We do not let… We have a strict policy…” Jason sputtered. “I meant you!”

She quirked her head to the side and watched him curiously. “You thought I was a kid, and you still gave me alcohol?”

Jason opened and shut his mouth. “No, I didn’t.”

She stared at him analytically, eyes narrowing to help focus her attention. Finally, she seemed to accept his words as her expression softened. “Your eyes are the most unique shade of blue,” she noted breathlessly as if in awe.

Jason snorted and quickly looked away. Or she didn’t accept his words so much as forgot what they were talking about. He turned back to her, eyes slightly narrowed as he considered her, watching attentively as she picked up the new glass of water Jorge set in front of her. “How did you end up here?” he asked before he could stop himself. It was something he’d been wondering about all night and there was no better time to ask.

She grinned brightly. “I know what you’re thinking,” she chirped. “What’s a place like this doing in a girl like me.”

Jason had to focus on not steadying the drink in her hand as she waved it while she talked. “Something like that,” he answered distractedly.

She settled the drink on the bar and leaned closer to Jason, excitement clear in her eyes. “We wanted to celebrate. We wanted to go somewhere we could have fun and not be judged.”

“Certainly, there were better places to do that,” he insisted incredulously. His place was not the place sweet kids went to celebrate. “You have to have known the reputation of this place.”

She scowled and leaned away from him, brow furrowed in disapproval, all signs of excitement gone. “Just because someone says someone else is bad doesn’t mean they are. People can be assholes and usually it isn’t the people with the worst reputations. It’s almost always the people who are the loudest about it.” She rested her elbows on the bar to stabilize herself as she took another drink. “I like to make up my own mind, thank you very much. And I’ve been having a damn fine night. Nobody judging us… until now.”

She stared at him pointedly with her last statement, which honestly impressed him. He hadn’t thought she was capable of it in her state. He might have even let her know how impressed he was but he was too distracted by her words. “And,” he started slowly, “is there something to judge you about?”

She scoffed and looked back at her drink. “I’m Chinese, a woman, and an immigrant. Everything I do is judged. And Adrien is…” she eyed Jason suspiciously. “Doesn’t matter. I think I need another drink.”

Jason quirked his head to the side, placated for the moment. She didn’t sound evil, though they never did, did they? She sounded like she just needed a break. Maybe this place was the prefect place for her after all… except for the drugged thing, which he still needed to resolve. “Okay, Pixie Pop, I'm gonna need you just stand up.”

Marinette looked around her slowly, trying to catalog all the details around them. “Am I not?” she asked emptily. After a beat, she shook her head. “No, I'm not usually this tall when I sit down and I'm pretty tall right now so I must be standing.” She grinned brightly at her brilliant use of logic.

“Okay, that’s it,” Jason grumbled. “This has gone on too long. You’re about to be a lot taller.” He scooped her up and carried her to his office.

She squealed and clung tight to him, her head hidden tightly in the crook of his neck. They were halfway to his office before her grip loosened and her body relaxed. Her head popped up and bobbed around a bit as she observed the room. “Oh, this is much taller,” she agreed. She turned back to him, not noticing how close their faces were as she did.

Jason, however, had to focus on keeping his breath steady and not turning his head just the fraction of an inch it would take for his lips to brush against hers. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and let out a contented sigh as she snuggled in. “So nice,” she hummed.

Jason just barely kept himself from tripping on the stairs to his office. She felt so natural in his arms, like she was meant to be there, like she fit perfectly… or he needed to sleep. That was more likely. Far more likely than that he was already falling for a woman who he’d only interacted with while she was intoxicated. What if she was always drunk? What if she was a junkie? He discretely checked her arms as he placed her on the couch. No track marks, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. She could just be really good at hiding it.

She looked around slowly. He could have sworn nothing was registering until she looked back at him with a smile. “See, no blood stains! I was right!” Her smile quickly turned into a frown. “Not very homey though. Do you feel relaxed here?”

Jason very consciously forced himself not to look at the rug, which definitely was not hiding several separate blood stains from several different occasions. “This is my office, not my home. But yes, I do get to relax here.”

She eyed him skeptically then looked around again, her head lolling to the back of the couch as she did. “You said you were taking me home,” she pouted.

“After I tested you to see what you were given,” he corrected, quickly making his way to a box on his shelf. He held up a little rectangle and a strip of paper. “This is going to prick your finger,” he shook the rectangle, “so this,” he shook the paper, “can collect your blood. Then that,” he motioned toward a machine next to the box, “will tell me what you’ve been given. State of the art. The best my ex-father’s money can buy.”

Marinette frowned. “That sounds painful.” Her eyes suddenly lit up and she straightened up but moved a bit too far forward. She swayed backward to counteract her momentum but overcorrected and slammed back into the couch. She sat back up slowly with a glare at the couch as she moved until she was sitting up straight without swaying and threw Jason a hopeful smile. “Oh! I should get another drink before you do it! To help with the pain.”

Jason snorted but knelt down in front of her to meet her eyes with a comforting look. “Absolutely not. It’ll be okay. It's just a little prick. You'll barely feel it at all,” he promised.

Marinette snorted inelegantly falling over on the couch as giggles racked her body. “That's… that’s not usually… what men say to me,” she gasped out between laughs. “They certainly never used it as a selling point, but you should get points for honesty.”

Jason huffed and rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep the bemused tug on his lips. “I'll keep that in mind. But in this case the needle,” he emphasized the words heavily and shook it in front of her, “won't hurt at all.” He waited for her to settle down and sit up straight again before he cleaned her finger and pricked it, quickly collecting the blood in the sample strip.

Marinette watched his actions intently. It wasn’t until he had already put the strip into the machine that she yowled and stuffed her finger in her mouth. “You lied!” she accused with a deep scowl that for the life of him, reminded him of an angry kitten.

He cocked his head and his lips quirked to the side as he considered his options given the behavior he’d noted over the last half hour or so. He plopped onto the couch next to her. “Lied about what?” he asked innocently. It was a gamble, but he felt it was a safe one.

She scrunched her brow even further then rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling as if trying to search her mind. “I don't remember,” she pouted, “but I know you did.”

Jason's grin widened. “You know I did what?” he asked slyly. He couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face, perhaps the first real one of the night. Hell, probably the first real one of the month.

She opened her mouth to respond but snapped it close correctly. Her scowl eased into a soft smile. “You have a really nice smile. Did you know that? You should smile more. I love seeing your smile. Well, this smile.” She looked away, her head slightly wobbling about as a frown tugged her lips down. “I’ve seen the smile you give some people. Those aren’t nice smiles. They’re like the ones Adrien would give to executives he didn’t like.”

She looked back up at him, her pout softening again as she looked into his eyes. “But this one is pretty. It makes you look childlike and carefree. It makes me think you like to laugh and love.” She raised her hand to gently rest it on his cheek but accidentally slapped him instead. “It’s a good look on you.”

Jason got lost in her eyes, the sting from the slap quickly fading into a warmth that spread throughout his body. He wanted to nuzzle into her hand. He wanted to nuzzle into her hair and let her scent wash over him, which was stupid because he didn’t know her. If his past had taught him anything, it taught him everyone has an angle and those that don’t will let you down. There was nothing about this, about her, that would change that.

But the brightness in her eyes drew him in, beckoned him forward with promises of transparency and virtue. Everything about the way she had been acting, with inhibitions too lowered to pretend, indicated to him she was the last option he’d considered; a legitimate, hardworking person not working an angle. It was the most curious thing he’d seen in a while, maybe years. It was enough that he wanted to know her better, really get to know her, maybe in a situation where he gets to touch her and hold her close, because everything he’d seen so far had blown him away, but in a good way this time.

He opened his mouth to return the compliment but was interrupted by a ding from the machine. He let out a deep breath and gently removed her hand from his cheek, lightly returning it to her lap. This was the moment of truth. The moment he found out how angry he got to be with her acquaintance; how violent he got to be with him. He scanned over the report quickly but returned to the top to read it again more slowly… and again. That could not be right, but no matter how many times he reread the report, the results remained the same.

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed with a laugh as he dropped down next to her again. “You're not drugged, you're just drunk... off of two drinks!”

Marinette scoffed and waved him off with an uncoordinated wave. “Don't be ridiculous. I'm French.”

“Well, Mademoiselle Frenchie, you are Le Drunk.” He barked out another incredulous laugh. That pretty well assured him that she was not in fact a drunk, and likely not a junkie either, though he desperately wanted to take a hair sample to just verify, he managed to stop himself. If two drinks could have this effect on her, there was no chance she drank regularly. Hell, even one glass of wine a week should make her at least a bit more immune. “You, Pixie should not drink.”

She glowered and dropped her head hard against the back of the couch. “I knoooow,” she groaned. “Adrien tried to talk me out of it, but I wanted to have a nice night. A carefree night. I’m always so responsible. I wanted a night where I let loose.”

Jason nodded in understanding. That is what his club was supposed to offer people. “Adrien was the man you were with?”

She screwed up her eyes as if focusing very hard for a solid minute before nodding awkwardly. “Yes. It was definitely Adrien and not Felix this time. He's in London with Kagami and Evan.” Her eyes suddenly lit up and her whole face brightened as she straightened up and bounced in her spot, missing Jason tucking his phone back in his pocket. “Can I tell you a secret?” She stopped, her face morphing into a serious expression. “You don't know any of my friends, right?”

“Uh... right,” Jason agreed, fairly confident in his response. He must have chosen correctly because Marinette grinned brightly in response.

“Great, then I can tell you. But you still can’t tell anyone.” She leaned closer to him, weaving a bit closer than he was sure she intended to. “Adrien is looking for an engagement ring! He asked me to help design it. Isn't that amazing! I'm so excited!” She fell back against the back of the couch with a dreamy expression on her face, missing the way his body subconsciously followed her. “Adrien so deserves to be happy.”

“And what about you?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Me?” She scrunched her nose in confusion again. “I don't need to design an engagement ring for myself.”

“No, I meant...”

“What would I even do with it? Propose to myself?” She giggled hysterically and lifted up her hand as if to examine an engagement ring on her finger. “Who are you engaged to? Myself. Could you imagine? It would be hilarious. I should do it. Do you have paper and a pen?” She looked around on the couch, separating the cushions to look there, her body still shaking with laughter.

“So, there’s nobody else who wants to propose to you?” he clarified.

Her laughter died down immediately, her smile morphing into a deep pout. “No, nobody who would want to marry me. Not even anyone who wants to kiss me. Everyone's getting kisses but me.” She met his eyes for a moment and brightened up. “Hey, do you want to kiss me?”

Jason started for a second before answering. For a long moment, he considered agreeing to it. He was definitely interested. She was beautiful and funny and sweet, and she made him want to try. She was the first person in a long time to do so. The first one that sparked something in him, something he’d feared had been beaten out of him. And she was drunk.

He sighed and shot her a wry smile. “I haven't gotten your friends' approvals yet. I don't think I'm allowed. Plus, we aren't friends yet. We have to be friends if we want to make the friends to lovers transition.”

She pouted again and slumped in her chair. “I hate slow burns.”

He snickered and gently brushed her hair behind her ear. “You don't have to be friends long before you make the change. We decide how long the burn is, right?”

She considered and nodded determinedly. “Right.”

He fought a snort and moved to meet her eyes, fixing her with an earnest look. “How about you come back when you're sober and if you're still interested, we can go out on a friend date?”

“A friend date,” she repeated slowly.

“Yeah, we get like dinner or something and talk. Become friends with no expectations. Then in a few weeks, if you're still interested, we can start the lovers part.”

She quirked her head to the side, accidentally knocking it into the back of the couch and rubbing her head absently. “Doesn’t that mean we have expectations? And is it a date then or just hanging out?”

He bobbed his head to the side in agreement and opened his mouth to respond but a knock at the door stopped him before he could. Marinette looked around and stared at the large fish tank concernedly for a moment before her eyes widened. “You have a secret room! That is so cool!” she gushed excitedly. “Can I go in it?” She was up and trying to make her way to the wall next to the fish tank faster than he thought she could move, which clearly he was right about because she started to fall forward.

Jason jumped up instantly, at first to intervene before she found the lever that opened the door to the secret room, marveling and a bit concerned over how she knew not only that there was a secret room behind the fish tank but also the exact right area to look for the lever. But ultimately, it meant he was there to grab her before she fell, scooping her up into his embrace again. “Come in,” he called once he’d set her firmly on the ground.

“M’lady!” Adrien called, instantly in front of her and pulling her into a tight hug. He glared over her shoulder at Jason, who merely shrugged at the glare. Honestly, a pretty good glare. Not up there with Batman or Alfred, but a solid contender and definitely deserved. Jason certainly hadn’t responded well when he’d thought Adrien had plans to take advantage of her. He could only assume Adrien felt the same. “Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side. “No?” She looked over at Jason with a pout. “He won’t even kiss me.”

Adrien blinked a few times before nodding. “Well… that’s…” He looked over at Jason with significantly less hostility. “Thank you for that.”

Jason shrugged. “Not my thing. And not allowed in my club. It’s why I had you removed. Sorry about that. I suspected you may have drugged her. But in my defense, I’d never seen anyone that drunk off two drinks.”

Adrien snickered and nodded in agreement. “It is quite something. Very amusing… when you aren’t out in public. She absolutely cannot handle champagne. Sorry she disrupted your night.”

Jason waved him off. “She really didn’t. I very much enjoyed it actually.”

Adrien gave him a knowing look. “Right. Well, I’m going to get her home. Thank you again for looking out for her.” With a final nod, he started walking toward the door.

“Bye, Jason,” Marinette called to him.

Jason followed them out the door and watched them as they crossed the floor to the exit before responding, pretty confident he wouldn’t see her again. “Bye, Pixie,” he whispered.

><><><><><><><><><

It took six days for Marinette to work up the nerve to return to the Iceberg Lounge. The first day had been spent recovering from her hangover. The next few had been spent attempting to get over her embarrassment. And by then it was the last day of Adrien’s visit and she couldn’t give that up to go check on some guy. Which was not a pathetic excuse, no matter what Adrien said. The next few days had been spent working up the courage to return.

And now here she stood, at the Lounge doors trying to convince the bouncer to let her in to see Jason. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be successful or not, but regardless of her desires, the club manager appeared and immediately let her in with a smile that looked suspiciously grateful.

Marinette00 shook her hands to get rid of the nerves causing them to tremble as she made her way across the floor. It was ridiculous. She’d fought akumas. She’d fought monsters and literal nightmares. She could certainly speak with a man who, if she remembered correctly, which Tikki had assured her she did, had already assured her he was interested. And it wasn’t like there was any pressure anyway. It was just a friend date. She loved meeting new friends. New sexy, respectful, smart friends that made Marinette’s heart race and skin burn whenever he was near.

Jason was in the middle of giving instructions for the night, a considerably slower night than the weekend had been, slow enough that he might even be able to get out for a bit as Hood, when he noticed his staff looking over his shoulder with a mix of amusement and relief, which was a significant change from their behavior all week. They had been on edge and he knew it was his fault. He’d been snapping at everything, even the most innocent things since Marinette left. When she didn’t return the next night, or the night after, Jason was reassured of the accuracy of his assessment and it hit him harder than he had expected.

So, when they suddenly looked excited, he had to stop mid word to see what was causing the reaction. He was glad he was faced away from his staff so they couldn’t witness the way his jaw dropped at the sight of her. Whereas before she had been the embodiment of Veronica Lake, oozing sensuality that almost seemed to conflict with the innocent look in her eyes, now she embraced it, appearing closer to the embodiment of Audrey Hepburn, exuding class and virtue with a demure sex appeal from which he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Hi,” she said shyly with a small wave.

“Hi,” Jason grinned back. “Daphne, I’m going to have to go now. You’re in charge for the night.” He clapped her on the back and walked away without ever taking his eyes from Marinette. “Let’s get out of here,” he paused, suddenly losing the confidence in his eyes. “If you’re still interested. If that’s what you want.”

She grinned brightly and nodded, taking a step closer to him. “I am. It is. I’d like to get to know you better and see what happens. I could use another friend in Gotham.”

Jason breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’m very friendly.” He ignored the incredulous looks from his staff he was sure were pointed at his back. “How would you feel about a friendly plate of food… and no wine? Come on, I’ll drive.”

She rolled her eyes but chuckled nonetheless. “I can handle wine, just not champagne.”

He stared at her incredulously from the corner of his eye as they walked side by side toward the exit. “How about we not test that tonight? You know what we should do though?” he asked as she passed by him as he held the door open for her, his voice betraying his childlike excitement at the idea, a feeling he hadn’t felt in longer than he cared to examine. He stopped at the driver’s side door and looked at her expectantly.

“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously, her mouth quirked up betraying her amusement.

“Tango lessons!” he grinned as he slid into the car.

She stared at the space he had just inhabited slack jawed for a few beats before she rolled her eyes and joined him in the car. “Tango lessons,” she scoffed.

“Tango lessons,” he confirmed with a bright grin.

@maribat-calendar-events

#maribat #jasonette #jasonette july #jasonette july 2023 #prompt - tango

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atomicchopshopbread · 2 years

Text

Rafe Becoming Obsessed With a High End Escort Head-canons

Inspired by the time I sent this detailed ask to @softcoreparadise about Rafe and a high end prostitute 🤣

Gif by @euphoriarph

WARNING: THIS IS DARK! MATERIAL! THESE HEADCANONS CONTAINS HEAVY THEMES INCLUDING NON-CON, ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR AND PROSTITUTION (protect sex workers.) PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS BOTHERS YOU. You are responsible for the media you consume.

Rafe has never been good at relationships.

He’s too controlling and very particular about what he wants.

So it’s honestly just easier when he turns his “romantic” life into something transactional.

The expensive women the clandestine agency sends can be anything he wants them to be and are willing to say and do whatever he wants them to. And at the end of the night, he doesn’t have to worry about not being “emotionally stable” enough for them.

He only goes through the escort service a couple times before he meets you.

He hires you to be his date to a business cocktail party and from the moment he sees you he believes your worth every penny of the exorbitant rate you’re charging.

He thinks you’re a fucking smoke show and you ooze class in a way that makes him wonder if your normal clients are politicians and the like. You certainly look the part.

You can’t help but be happily surprised by his boyish good looks and lean frame. You’ve certainly had way worse.

He doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes slide over you, approving every inch of your figure. After all, he paid for it?

He does try to be what he considers a gentleman during your time together. He talks to you more than he had the other women and he’s genuinely entertained by your presence. You seem worldly and smart and he’s grinning at you a lot throughout your conversations.

You notice the way he talks to the waiter and you’re reminded that he’s a rich asshole like all the rest. He orders you wine even though you tell him water is fine, a furrow on his brow to match the happy twist of his mouth.

“Nah, nah, c’mon babe, drink with me.”

And for some reason you do and maybe it has to do with the heat from his palm trailing up your thigh making you lose a bit of control of your senses.

He takes you back to the hotel and his tongue is in your mouth before the elevator leaves the lobby. One hand on your ass and one in your hair.

He surprises you by eating you out like he’s not the one paying for pleasure.

The words “beautiful” and “perfect” fall off his lips when he’s inside you but you pay it no mind. It’s not that unusual. Some guys are just like that. You’ve even had guys pay you for a night of conversation.

The sex is hot and intense and he loves the way you take it, letting him bend you and position you however he wants, never telling him to slow down or let up.

Afterwards he pulls you down on his chest and you talk some more while you wait for room service.

It’s not the last time you hear from rafe. He becomes a regular and you don’t really mind it. He pays plenty and he fucks you like he’s trying to prove something.

He starts introducing you to his business associates as his girlfriend. Again, this isn’t too uncommon so you don’t let it bother you. As long as he knows the true nature of your relationship everything is fine.

He has your cell number now so he doesn’t have to go through the agency and he pays you personally. He texts and calls you regularly and when he wants to meet up you’ve started going to his place. The only thing that distinguishes that he’s a client is that he still pays you before every meet up.

You think maybe he likes to fantasize the two of you are in a relationship so you let him. You know he’s deep into the finance world so he probably doesn’t have the time or energy to put towards a real girlfriend. You don’t mind, as long as he keeps sending the money to your venmo.

It all goes south one night when he sees you at a club on the arm of a guy atleast 20 years older than you or himself. You’re laughing and smiling like you’re having the time of your life, your hand resting on the older man’s chest as he shows you off to his associates. Rafe grits his teeth and feels sick to his stomach.

It gets worse when your company and his company mingle together, mutual business aquantainces among both parties bringing them together.

You finally notice Rafe and have the decency to look ashamed for a moment.

But you still stay glued to your client’s side, smiling brightly at his words as you try to ignore Rafe’s burning stare.

Rafe has ground his jaw until his head aches and he doesn’t even try to hide the way he looks at you in disgust.

When the night is over your client leads you out to his expensive car and you can’t help but glance back at Rafe. He looks like he wants to tear you apart with his eyes.

Surprisingly you don’t hear from Rafe for two days, not even a call or text. You almost want to be the first to contact him for once but you almost laugh at the ludicrousness of that thought. Why the fuck would you do that?

A knock on your door wakes you up in the middle of the night and you startle before rushing to the door. The peephole is blocked so, dumbly and sleepily, you crack open your door, leaving the chain in place.

As soon as you meet his crazed bloodshot eyes you try to slam the door in a panic but he’s already shoved his foot in the open space. Two harsh shoves from his shoulder and the chain snaps pitifully.

You run to grab your phone from the bedroom but his arms are already wrapping around your robed waist and he’s shushing you in your ear.

“Babe, babe. It’s just me,” he drawls. He laughs meanly at your struggle before turning you around. “What? Not happy to see me?”

“Why the fuck are you here Rafe!?”

Rafe shouldn’t even know where you live.

He pushes you backwards to your dining room table, taking you by your throat as he makes your back bend flush against it.

“Ya know, I tried to treat you nice. More than you fucking deserved.” He fumbles with his belt buckle as he holds you down and you quit slapping at him when he gives your throat a squeeze that makes you choke and gasp. You know you’ll probably just get hurt more if you try to fight the inevitable.

“I thought you were different, just maybe a girl that had had to do some things to survive. Maybe you just needed some help. And I was more than willing to help you.”

He swirls his fingers over your clit, like it will be even more humiliating for you if you’re turned on after he forces his way into your house. Like it will prove him right.

“But I think you fucking enjoy it.” He shoves into you punishingly and even wet it makes you gasp.

He leans down and bites at your neck, breathing into your ear.

“Whore.”

He slaps your tits as they bounce and pulls your face back by your hair when you turn away.

“Say it.”

You bite your lip as he pounds into you, forcing a moan to rise in your throat.

He holds your jaw and you feel flecks of saliva as he spits directly in your face, cackling as your eyes roll back in your head.

“Say it, slut.”

“I’m a whore,” you whine and then your orgasm hits and you can barely feel the way he still kisses you tenderly when he reaches his own peak.

In the morning when he leaves, he tosses a wad of cash over your worn out body twisted in the sheets.

It’s the most you’ve ever made in one night.

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #outer banks #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #drew starkey

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mominousrex · 2 years

Text

The Jola Moon (A Rexsoka FanFic) - Chapter 13: And Fives Is With Me

Summary: Rex and Fives have some catching up to do. Ahsoka encounters a familiar presence in the Force.

Warnings: None. (I know, right?!)

Click to READ on AO3

A/N: Canon disclaimer JUST GO WITH IT XD

LUV 2 ALL THE CREW IN THE SHEBBY DEBBIES DISCORD: THIRSTY GOOD GIRL HOURS ARE 24/7- Love you so much!

Chapter 13: And Fives Is With Me

Rex barely made it a few meters following "Fives" before he dug in his heels, refusing to take another step further.

Fives– or whoever (or whatever) was only a few paces ahead of him, continuing the trek. The figure had taken off their helmet, now holding it at their hip as all clone soldiers did out of habit. Rex heard him take a deep inhale and exhale out with an audible sigh before Fives's signature vocal tone boomed out,

"Stars! The air on this moon is incredible, Rex. This feels good. I miss that feeling when we could take our helmets off and actually breathe in the air of a new place. Eh, that is, before it all went to shit with blaster fire, blood and smoke, right?"

Fives didn't urge Rex for a response.

But Rex still wouldn't move. He was tired of looking at the perfect replica of the back of Fives's full head of jet black hair.

It was shaved when he died. He had taken his chip out and had a shaved head.

Truthfully, it could be the back of any clone's head. But that walk? That was Fives.

Fives had this walk that just oozed confidence, announcing that he was ready for any damn thing thrown at him with each strut. He always had his shoulders back, chest out, whether he wore his armor, blacks, or those damn starched civvie jumpers.

Fives's goateed chin always led as he walked, giving him a demeanor that was so approachable it was intimidating. Shinies felt special even if he barely said three words to them. And women? Forget it. Military-grade TUG tractor beams only equaled his unique magnetic charisma. Women were instantly drawn to his lively energy field of casual swagger.

It was something Rex had never felt around the opposite sex. Until here, on Splendor with Ahsoka. Rex was still dizzy from waking up with the lustful haze from making love to Ahsoka, now being quickly removed by this bizarre scenario. Was it too much to ask for one day of normalcy and rest?

He heaved out a sigh.

This is crazy. Or am I going crazy?

"Hey!" Rex shouted to his supposed brother, who stopped walking but didn't turn around.

As Rex was trying to puzzle out this non-response, he caught the slightest of movement.

Kriffing hell. I don't believe it.

Incredibly, it was the nervous tick that no other clone had. The thumb and pinky of Fives's right hand would continuously tap a drumming restlessness on the side of his thigh plate. Everyone would joke that Fives could both march in time and to the beat of his own drum.

And it was that tiny detail that finally made Rex confront the situation out loud,

"What in the galaxy is going on?! You're… You're—"

"Dead? Yes."

"What do you mean, 'yes'? Then how—"

"And no ."

"WHAT?! I—I don't understand? I saw you get shot! Commander Fox shot you right in the heart…in front of me. You died in my arms!"

Rex was about to start registering the painful memory again.

"And yet, Captain, here I am, in the flesh even," his face proud and hands out presenting as though he too was impressed, "This was unexpected, I know."

Fives allowed Rex a moment to try to wrap his brain around this strange event. But being Fives, he just couldn't resist,

"But...stranger things have happened on this moon, huh, Captain?" He gave a wink.

"What the—?! You can't be serious! This is some fucking Force trick. You are not really Fives and I am not going to play along with some head game that's going to use Fives's memory to fuck with me!"

Fives stood there pulling his gloves tighter and adjusting his gauntlets, "Are you done?"

Rex's eyes widened at the incredulous question.

Fives walked over to Rex with a playful, almost boyish taunt. He stood face to face with his clone Captain. Rex's quizzical look at Fives was twisted up in so many emotions, as he realized this was not a mystical spirit or ghost. Somehow, here on Splendor, Fives was flesh and blood made whole.

Fives then slowly lifted up his right arm to Rex's cuirass. Then shoved him— hard.

Stunned, Rex lost his footing as he flopped back on his skid plate, his helmet tossed to the ground. Astonished, he immediately got back to his feet and shoved Fives back.

"Haha! There's my Captain!"

"Don't you fucking dare! You are not Fives!"

Rex was karking spitfire mad with rage and grief. Anger was burning from his chest, radiating up and down to his extremities. His face was beet red while tears welled in his eyes with fury.

"You can't do this! You have no right!"

Rex tried again to shove him, but Fives easily dodged Rex's jump at him with a zig-zag sidestep.

"Fight it, Rex. C'mon, Cap! That's it. Get pissed!" Fives dropped his bucket to the ground

"Stop!"

"I tried to tell ya." Fives's right boot swiped around Rex's left calf, almost taking Rex out completely. But, Rex caught himself on his knee plate, back up on his feet in a flash, and repositioned a defensive stance.

Rex roared with unrestrained anger, "FUCK YOU!!!"

His boisterous voice echoed across the landscape. Rex's chest was heaving, his head pounding from the exertion of his emotional release still traveling the distance.

Fives closed his eyes and listened, appreciating the sound as it traveled.

The two of them silently registered the reminder of their dear brother— Echo.

Both men now knew that Echo was never actually dead. The 501st's silent trauma from thinking they lost him at The Citadel turned out to be worse than grief. Instead, they should have felt overwhelming guilt for leaving him behind still alive and suffering.

Echo's torturous imprisonment at the hands of the Techno Union had left his mind and body permanently scarred. And even though Rex risked everything to save him, he had to let Echo go...again. No longer the ARC Trooper he once was, Echo was changed forever. Still, saving Echo was one of the few victories Rex could actually be proud to have achieved.

Fives spoke carefully in a calm tone, "On Anaxes, you knew it was Echo. Even Cody doubted you, but you knew. Didn't you ever wonder how you were so sure or more importantly why you were sure that Echo was still alive?"

"I just figured...Are you saying...No, no, no, this isn't fair. You have no idea what we went through! What Echo went through!"

Fives relished in Rex's challenge. Oh, he was ready for a brotherly fight.

"Oh, I don't know?! Tell me, Rex, how I don't know what it's like to be deserted, by my brothers?"

"I was there, Fives! I did not desert you. You don't think I regretted giving you permission to stay with Tup on Kamino?! Not a single, fucking day went by when I wished I could go back and do things differently. You would have left with me and let them–"

"Let them what? What, Rex? Let them reprogram Tup? Or worse, let him die? Cap, if you think I would have actually listened to you—"

"Listened to me? Oh, Maker, forbid!"

Rex's fury came out in nasty biting sarcasm as he continued,

"How dare I, Captain Rex, expect the one and only cee tee fucking five five five five should listen to me? I was just the lowly captain of the whole damn 501st Legion?!! You'll have to forgive me, Fives. Yes, I regret the very moment that I—yes, me, Captain Rex— made the wrong choice and gave one of my best men, my closest brothers, clearance to go on a damned suicide mission."

Both men stared daggers into each other's eyes. These emotions were actually the agonizing love that could only be between what most people call…family.

"I should have ordered you to leave with me!"

Fives scoffed an incredulous laugh at Rex's predictable response. He made no effort to mask his disappointment in Rex's final declaration on the matter.

"Sometimes, Rex, honestly, I can't believe I looked up to you. You know what? Forget it. You aren't ready for this! If you're gonna pull that same 'good clone soldier' crap you always do, then there's no point to me even being here."

Rex would not accept such an insult. The blatant insubordination was too much—from anyone, whether it was some Force ghost or even a reanimated, undead Fives.

The boiling rage moved Rex to charge and lunge at Fives in response. The two soldiers tumbled down to wrestle; their colliding plastoid armor pieces clacked and clashed as both scraped for the upper hand over the other. Rex bared his teeth with each forceful reach, then shouted and spat out every painful conviction,

"Not ready for what, Fives, huh? Tell me, smart ass! You cocky, mouthy bantha-fucker! Grrrrrrr—"

Rex used his whole torso to dig his head into the weak point under Fives's armpit. The maneuver caused Fives to wince aloud in pain at the stabbing pressure being applied to his pectoral muscle. Rex was limiting the reach of Fives's bicep as he tried to grab at Rex from behind.

"Tell me, Fives, you little shit! Running your mouth again, huh? You have no idea what I have been through! After Umbara, losing Ahsoka, then Tup and you? Then how we found Echo. And now?! Now, I've lost everyone. Everyone, Fives!" Rex spat out the combination of sweat and saliva that had built up with his shouting and complete focus on maintaining his dominant hold over Fives.

Rex was now shoving Fives's face down into the dirt to get the dulled arm in a hammerlock behind his back. Both men were now snarling out their breaths as Fives fought against Rex's strength to search for an opening. Rex's voice strained as he continued,

"I…would search…the galaxy and back…tenfold…if I— ARGGHHHH!…if I could...hmph...bring…GAHH!…any of my brothers back!"

Fives feigned a moment of surrender, and then he laughed maniacally as he pounced on Rex's slightest readjustment and release. Fives quickly wrapped his left leg around Rex's thigh, attempting to start a flip and spin for a reverse half-shoulder hold on Rex. But Rex anticipated the move and just applied more pressure to his grip on Fives (now completely) numb shoulder and crunched neck as the adrenaline raged Rex's continued fury,

"How dare you tell me I'm not ready for whatever the fuck ‘this' is , or will be! After everything I have been through, everything I have lived through?! What in this damned galaxy could I not handle?"

Rex's body was worn out from fighting one of the smartest, toughest damn troopers he's ever known. He released Fives with a huff and sat back on his haunches. Fives pulled himself up to his knees, heaving with breath. He swung his arm in circles to soothe his rotator cuff as he plopped back down on his skid plate and stretched his legs out before pulling his knees up to rest his arms on his knee plates.

"I can't Fives. I can't fight you, whether you are him or…aw fuck, I don't know anymore."

"So you do see that it's me?"

"I don't know what you are. You sure as hell fight like Fives."

"Ha!" Fives snickered in response.

Rex yowled into the air at his physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. Letting himself catch his breath, he confessed, "I don't know what's happening. Fuck! Every day here has been like some dream, then a nightmare that then turns into a dream. How is this harder than fighting a damn war?"

"Because you are becoming your own man, Rex. I'm never gone as long as you see yourself as a free man. You can't pull that perfect soldier routine anymore. You're a rebel now." Fives stood up and reached out his hand for Rex to safety-grip his wrist, "And you know what that means?"

"What?"

Rex accepted Fives hand and the two locked their grips around the other's wrists as Fives pulled Rex up to face him. Fives placed his hand on Rex's shoulder plate.

"It means you'll do what is best and right because you know it is. You'll question authority, doubt their bluffs, and know that you can always outsmart them."

Rex would have been horrified and insulted by the label 'rebel' at any other time in his life. But now? He was sure he just couldn't live up to the description.

"That was always you, Fives. I was never the rebellious type."

Fives gave him a smirk.

"Hmm…interesting. Yet here she is, with you, on this moon. She's in love with you too…and you with her. Guess you only rebel when it comes to uh…love?"

Rex had no idea how to respond to this. Fives was right. Again.

"I'm…," Rex felt the hesitation creep up. He was facing one of his brothers who knew about his and Ahsoka's relationship. Of all of his brothers, Fives knew. Fuck.

Rex wasn't sure what came over him, but he started to laugh. He genuinely began to laugh because he absolutely didn't give a shit what anyone thought, even Fives.

"Ahsoka and I… I'm not going to deny what I feel, Fives."

"Good."

"It is. It's better than good, it's the best feeling I've ever had in my life."

"Oh, I bet ."

"Don't fucking start, Fives. I'm not talking about that with you."

"Really, Rex? You're telling me that fu—

"Watch it, brother!" Rex stepped to Fives

"Excuse me…uh, having sex with Ahsoka—

"It's more than sex, Fives."

"Kriffing stars, Rex will you lighten up?"

"Not about this, no. It's Ahsoka, Fives. She's not just some quick fuck in the back of 79's. She's…."

For some reason, the lagoon came to Rex's mind.

A warmth settled in his chest as he recalled how jittery and nervous he was to touch Ahsoka then. The terrifyingly wonderful rush of kissing her neck while suspended in the air combined with the sound of her surrender to affection.

"She's everything to you now."

"Yeah. She really is."

"You going to admit I was right? You never did apologize, Rex."

"What you said was out of line. Then and now."

"And what was it I said, again? Remind me."

"Oh this again? You know what you said that night. As usual, too kriffing much."

That night. That stupid, wasted, drunken night.

The same week Ahsoka left, Rex went out with the boys to 79's and sat there like a drunken fool. The memory stung differently now. He no longer felt like less than a man for not participating in the hedonistic orgy. He wasn't made of stone. But now facing Fives, Rex shuddered at the thought of what happened on the way to 79's...

As they all left the barracks, Fives pulled Rex aside to walk a bit behind the others,

"Captain, sir, I know you don't want to go out with us. But you should do yourself a favor and let one of these Shebbies finally fuck you. Maker, those gals have been dying to fuck the one and only Captain Rex!"

He gave Rex a slap on the back before throwing his arm around Rex's shoulder.

"If this is supposed to be a pep talk, you are failing miserably, Fives."

"Come on! Do you know how many times we are asked," Fives squeaked up his voice to a high pitch and batted his eyelashes, 'Where's the Captain, tonight?' or 'Is Captain Rex taken or what?' Haha. Or what is right!" Fives belly laughed as he shoved and released Rex from his hold.

"I highly doubt that, Fives. Am I taken? Why would they even ask that?" And what do you mean or what, huh?"

"Because…"

Rex looked at Fives blankly, having no idea what he was implying. Fives stopped walking. Rex stopped in turn.

"Captain, I'm serious. She's gone now. I know it's gotta hurt. She was the only female you've ever really cared about."

"What? You mean, Commander Tano? We all will miss—"

"Sir, respectfully, I'm talking to you, one man to another. You don't have to admit it out loud, but come on, Rex. I know."

Rex laughed off the serious tone in Fives's voice.

"Know what?"

Fives snickered out his bafflement that had just a hint of pity hanging in the air.

"Fives, if you're implying that I have feelings for Commander Tano in that way…."

"You're telling me that you don't care, it doesn't hurt that you may never see her again?"

"She's our Commander?!" Rex was starting to turn red in the face. Fives wasn't sure if it was anger or embarrassment.

"Come on, Rex! You mean to tell me that all that time you two have spent together, sitting next to each other every flight, every briefing, working extra hours on field reports, covering Skywalker's ass, guarding her tent on missions, every night we went out you two stayed in for—"

"All of those things I did as her captain! Look, the 501st has, fuck! We had one of the most talented and dedicated Jedi Commanders in the GAR. I never saw her as…as…."

"A beautiful, wickedly smart, kind, and powerful Togrutan Jedi whose body needed to grow up as fast as ours did, so you could finally kiss her one day?"

Yup. Rex still remembered what Fives had said that night…and not one trooper in the 501st failed to notice Rex's response that stuck around on Fives's face the following week.

"Look, Fives. I am sorry I punched you that night. Though, you were out of line. But yes, I... I could've handled my response better."

"Worth it."

Rex laughed.

Fives grinned, "Well, it was. And...I was right."

"That mouth of yours. Kriffing unbelievable. Damnit, Fives. I told you it would get you killed. Are you going to at least admit that I was right?"

"Again. Worth it."

Fives grinned at his brother with pride and said no more. For someone like Fives, silence carried significance. This was Fives's unspoken declaration of pride and honor. He stood there silently, grinning at Rex. Fives knew that even though the circumstances of his death were tragic, had he not uncovered the truth of the inhibitor chips, Palpatine's true identity, and the plan for Order 66, he would've been just another pawn in the greatest deception against the Jedi and The (now fallen) Republic.

Rex stepped to his brother and hugged him. He held Fives so tightly his own armor was digging into his skin. But Rex let the pain of the armor do its worst as he took a deep breath and confessed,

"Thank you, Fives. I'm sorry. And you were right, brother."

Muffled in their armored embrace, Fives responded,

"I'm still waiting for you to admit making love to Ahsoka is the best kriffing feeling you've ever had."

Rex grunted, then pulled away from their embrace. He was blushing, but he was also grinning. It was the cheekiest grin Fives ever saw on Rex's face.

"Come onnnn, Cap! You can tell a brother."

"Oh, not just any broth— Oh no, brother?!"

Kriff! Rex had forgotten entirely.

"I was supposed to check in with Cut!"

__________________________________________________________

Ahsoka trekked the crumbling path that was lined with buried and broken columns. It was headed in a direction that would go much deeper into the cloud forest. She assessed that the heavy lower and upper canopies of massive trees could tangle up any clear path, so she paid attention to the patterns above made by the branches and foliage. There seemed to be hundreds of shades of green in this forest. This only made the forgotten detritus of demolished stone stand out worse. Life had moved on and taken over the untamed area that once was a hallowed, sacred space.

She could not help but think of the grand structure of the Jedi Temple. Growing up inside the temple walls, she had always believed the Jedi Order's high prestige was known and respected throughout the galaxy. But her months in the lower levels of Coruscant saw no such greatness or protection. The rest of the capital city was stifled beneath the weight and bloated distinction of Coruscant's upper levels. An obvious ruling class that was physically burying the rest of the city's population beneath them. And there at the very top level was where the "guardians of peace and justice" made their home.

The city's central landmark had a majesty that presided over the people of the capital city as a symbol of what? Was it to glorify their ability to protect others, or was it self-glorification?

In the months after she left the Order, Ahsoka would often wonder if the Jedi ever considered the real difference they could've made had they chosen to build their temple in the bottom levels of the city instead.

But none of that mattered now, though.

Ahsoka began to recall through a series of emotions and images the memories of the grand hallways, the quiet of the Jedi Archives, the lights of the training rooms, the comfort of the living quarters, and the powerful energy of the Jedi council room. All of these would one day be a ruin, buried in layers of time and forgotten.

I need to find out who survived.

Ahsoka hoped she could find answers if anyone else survived Order 66? Knowing that so many others fell, who would train the younglings now?

The younglings!

Ahsoka collapsed under the weight of grief, anger, and agony. Her connection to the Force was crawling under her skin, stinging with pain throughout her whole body.

No. This can't be…

Tears fell without shame from her eyes as she rooted her feet back to the ground to rise back up. With concentrated breath and gritted teeth, she slowly built up her spine one vertebrae at a time as she fought the weight of darkness and a sense of horror.

Innocent lives. They were just children and had done nothing wrong.

Vengeance will not bring them back.

Still, the rage brewing in her was instant. Ahsoka felt the shudder in her neck and shoulders as her jaw clenched. Lips curled in; she wanted to scream, spit out fire, and roar at the whole damn galaxy when she imagined what monster would commit such an unfathomable act of violence.

She wanted to do all those things. Instead, she let it horrify her but not consume her. Again, there was a darkness similar to a bottomless cavern of pain that had clouded her when they first arrived on Splendor. Her connection to the Force was a lifeline that she clung to as the grim shadow invaded her thoughts.

Ahsoka's body was trembling from being so locked up; her muscles flexed with tension. She was still registering the anger and disgust, calling for swift retaliation. She concentrated her focus and stared at a patch of grass that was struggling to sprout through the dirt.

Life. Hope.

Fixated on this one spot, she stayed grounded in her place at the moment.

"Darkness cannot guide my path. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me."

Rex.

She softened at the thought of him. A slight grin formed thinking of last night, his handsome face cradled in her lap as she watched his lips move when he spoke. She thought of how his eyes glowed when he smiled at her now. She closed her eyes and recalled the warmth of his voice when he was close to her skin just before kissing her neck. She wasn't sure if it was a feeling of comfort or safety, but it was calming. Rex was more than just her first love, closest friend, and warrior bound. Now he would always be a beacon that could to guide her back to the moment she fought her last fight in the war for the Republic…and was victorious. As long as the two of them lived, this evil that had murdered so many could never truly claim victory.

She knew leaving Rex behind this morning was what she had to do, but she missed his grounding presence right now. Still, Rex would be furious if he knew about the slaughter at the Jedi Temple. His clone instinct to protect the innocent and vulnerable would have him halfway to battle mode, and she would be the one telling him to stand down for a moment.

"Who did it? Who ordered the younglings to be killed?"

"One who controls the galaxy now."

The voice that answered was masculine, older, distant, yet serene. This spirit is here with her or around her, somewhere. She felt his presence in the Force. Morai circled above, but the man's voice was near. There was a familiarity with his Force presence. One she doesn't remember, but she knows him.

"This murderer? This is the work of Darth Sidious?"

"His apprentice, but yes, by his orders."

"They must be stopped."

"And how will this be acheived? More battles, more war. Isn't that what the Jedi were trying to do all these years? Not much to show for our efforts."

"Our? Then…you are a Jedi?"

"In my mortal life, I was, yes. Now I am just one with the Force. One of many Jedi who have left their mortal bodies. Now they are Jedis in memory only. For as long as anyone will remember if they do at all."

"I remember. I will not forget. I— I want to seek vengeance, but I–"

Ahsoka's emotions were simmering underneath her skin as a singe of heat caused her teeth to clench. She looked out to scope around her and distract her from the painful sensation. She noticed the top of a ruined pediment edging out of the ground. Once the smooth and shaped marble cornice slabs had met at a perfect point, now they were off-center, one side bearing the weight of the other that was crushed and buried into earth and loam.

"You know vengeance is not the way. Balance, Ahsoka. As you have found here. And you have found it here. You opened your heart to love with Rex when tragedy and grief could have consumed you."

The petty embarrassment of how much this spirit knew took her by surprise for a moment. That is until she registered what was just said and the lack of judgment in the man's tone.

"Balance? I certainly do not feel any balance since this massacre of my…," she stopped herself.

"You can say it, your people. Your family. You grew up at the Jedi Temple, Ahsoka. Leaving one place does not erase who you were in the past, you bring it with you in the present, for better or for worse."

"Who are you? Why do you feel so familiar to me?"

"Our connection exists here and now because your presence here has increased your powers, Ahsoka Tano. As a Jedi, I sought out past the acceptable boundaries of the Order. There was always more truth and more knowledge. A Jedi was to have no fear, and yet, the forbidden is only deemed so out of fear. You are now able to commune with me in the Force because of the power here. As you may have realized this place is not simply a moon."

"The Force is very powerful here. It…it reminds me of…."

"Mortis? I was there, with all of you. Obi-Wan and Anakin, they never spoke of your time there again, did they?"

Ahsoka felt as though she was dusting off a lost sentimental treasure from her mind. It was a memory placed in some mental vault for safekeeping but then lost to the frantic day-to-day demands of the war. Recalling it now, she considered all that she, Anakin, and Obi-Wan experienced on Mortis. The significance was lost at the time.

"No. We never spoke of it. Not even to the Council. It's as though…we just dismissed that it ever happened. And I—"

Morai's flight circling above her caught Ahsoka's attention.

"Morai, she was…the Daughter."

The bird gracefully swooped down and took its place on Ahsoka's vambrace.

"You gave your life for me. I'm trying to remember…The Father, The Daughter, and The Son. It all seemed so significant when we were there, but it was as though it never happened once we left," she said.

Qui-Gon responded, "When memories are forgotten, did the experience even happen?"

Ahsoka was familiar with this type of questioning. The contemplative nature of a Jedi was the result of deep philosophical training. Wisdom and compassion for others within a small community are simple and accessible. But to have the same consideration and openness for an entire planet? That was much more challenging.

Whereas Jedi were expected to practice compassion for all living things in an entire galaxy —while also wielding the power of the Force. Jedi needed to expand their perceptions and opinions beyond the narrow scope of their own personal understanding. The individual is limited. Jedi were trained to accept that they were part of something greater.

Once, she was part of something greater, too…until she wasn't anymore. The thought of this never quite settled in her heart right. It was as though some emotional limp from a painful injury healed wrong. She accepted she would live with the invisible scar forever.

"I remember you little one. Master Plo once told me his heart grew tenfold the day he sensed you, Ahsoka. The power in you had a strength and light that was unlike any he had felt. Your sense of good and bravery was so uplifting, he wondered if I had not made a mistake in my conviction for the youngling I had found."

Ahsoka still could not puzzle out who this was. She was done with this bizarre encounter attempting to bring up her past as though it had any idea what she had been through these last few days or even this last year.

"What do you want from me?! I'm here, aren't I?"

"No, you are not here! You were drifting back to your days as a Jedi padawan. We can talk about the Order, your training, your determination to prove yourself over and over again. What good would that do? It is gone now. Would you like to waste precious time reminiscing over days past? Is that what you have become since leaving the Order?

"No. That's not fair. My entire life was devoted to the Jedi Order. I was...," Ahsoka could not stop the hurt that always stung in her chest when she thought of Bariss's betrayal by framing her. But even more hurtful were the actions of the Jedi Council, believing Ahsoka was capable of the Temple bombing.

"Thinking of the past will always leave you falling behind. Where you are now is all that matters."

"To prepare for what is ahead?"

"Wrong again. A future that has not happened. How does one prepare for that?"

Ahsoka reached out to touch one large piece of a broken column. Its once smooth, sturdy stone had stood at an unknown height but now lay in shattered rubble. Its base was strangled in the ground at a falling angle.

The man's voice continued,

"You see what is broken before you. Do you waste time staring at these ruins wondering how or why they got this way? You could. You could do that. Or…you can try to put it back together."

Eyeing the pieces like a puzzle for a moment, Ahsoka assessed the difficulty. She closed her eyes, reached out her hands to allow the energy of the Force to work through her, and lifted all the pieces to hover. Next, she drew in the expanding breath that allowed her body to release an exhaling breath of elevated power. This is when the Force manifests from her as its conduit. As the scattered rubble swirled in a guided dance, the pieces began to pull together to their original columned form. Some pieces were large and jagged around the edges, some as tiny as a pebble. When she attempted to reassemble the pieces, her mind began to play flashes of scenes, unfamiliar to her but familiar to…

"Qui-Gon Jinn? You are Master Qui-Gon Jinn. You were…Obi-Wan's Master, the one who found Anakin. I-I barely remember you."

"I am. Yes, you were quite young. And, yes, I was a Master, but now of none, of nothing."

She sensed his presence grow stronger. She wanted to open her eyes to see him, but she would lose the focus needed to hold the broken pieces together.

"You are rebuilding a ruin. What will hold it all together?'

"The Force…"

"Hmmm…not without you. It won't stay together."

"But you were the one who said I could put it back together?!"

"Your mind is clouded, young one. The lesson is in the learning. What is there to learn from studying ruins or attempting to rebuild what cannot exist again?"

Ahsoka was so close to completing the column ruin. She wanted to finish this one task just to feel like she was still...capable. Always trying to prove herself, but to whom now? A ghost of someone she barely knew? There was no Anakin, Obi-Wan, Master Windu, or the rest of the Council.

She reluctantly recalled her weeks alone in the lower levels of Coruscant, sitting without any purpose.

She knew Qui-Gon was right. Once she had each piece together, what would keep it all there? She had to choose. Does she stubbornly stay there and hold the assembled column in place for the satisfaction of putting it back together? It's not like she could stay there holding this one column's thousands of pieces in place? But if she let go, it would all fall apart and crumble again. Her efforts would be a waste.

She accepted and admitted to the Force spirit, "I must let go."

"Yes. When you understand your choice, you know you are making the right one. As you enter the Temple of The Mother, be wise not to dwell on what happened before. Ask yourself, why are you here now? "

Ahsoka let her connection to the Force subside. The tiny twist of defeat she knew too well irked her as she realized she was still trying to convince the ghosts of her past that their doubt in her innocence was a betrayal that hurt her deeply. But her need for their approval was hurt much worse.

His spirit stood tall over her when she opened her eyes, a hazy form of stardust and light. She suddenly remembered when she met Master Jinn so long ago; she thought he was the tallest human alive. Now in some strange spirit form, she studied his face, robes, energy, and presence in the Force.

"You must begin your training today. Morai will guide you to The Mother."

"The Mother."

Ahsoka still had no notion of who or what was The Mother. She looked over into the midst of the wild forest. The massive trunks of kapoks, banyans, and palms appeared woven together to form some kind of an arboreal gate.

"I see no entrance to a temple at all. Forgive me, Master Jinn, but we just went through this. I cannot rebuild something that is lost."

"No, you can't. But, as you said, you can see what is before you. Look ahead, begin your own path."

Ahsoka closed her eyes and held her breath for a moment. Exhaling out, she opened her eyes and moved to take a step but thought again. It was no hesitation; instead, a sense of farewell and gratitude filled her heart. She looked over where Qui-Gon had stood, and he was gone.

"May the Force be with you, Ahsoka Tano," his voice then disappeared with the wind.

She felt a subtle warm breeze brush against her skin. Then it was gone.

"Thank you, Master Jinn. May the Force…be with you, always."

Ahsoka then took her first step on the unseen path further into the forest. She was determined not to falter in her actions.

The ground began to tremble as she walked. A thunderous rumbling underneath the ground caused Ahsoka to brace her stance. Unphased, maybe more determined, she continued, adjusting her gait as she moved in tandem with the crunching wave-like shifting of ground that would split and reset. It was as though something was waking up, but she sensed no other living beings of any kind.

The vines and dirt that had covered the shattered ruins of columns began to snap and crumble; a new pathway was being outlined directing the now elevated path into the cloud forest. Ahsoka observed the transformation as she leaped when suddenly, the columns rose up fully reassembled and erected once again. This time, it was not Ahsoka holding any of this together. The Force was demonstrating its impressive power, her own seeming small in comparison.

Up ahead, she saw the branches and leaves of the trees shake mightily as it was clear something was uprooting itself from below to rise out of its hidden natural tomb. In her vision, she saw two large White Wroshyr trees grow out of the ground to an impossible height in a matter of seconds. Ahsoka and any padawan of the Jedi Order had studied the archives of the mystical gem bearing majestic trees.

She remembered learning how they had long been extinct. The last one on Kashyyyk was said to have provided the last known precious meriyx gemstone over a millennia ago. Yet here on Splendor, two of these sacred trees stood guard on either side of a small humble stone square structure flanked on either side by the two trees and massive moss-covered boulders. The newly revealed path of mismatched stepping stones had also broken through the surface, snapping roots and knocking over some of the gigantic trees.

The building had some sort of small entrance. As Ahsoka got closer, she deduced that this was not the temple. This was just the entrance.

She finally padded her swift feet to face the small darkened entrance. There was no door, no markings, or symbols. Nothing gave her any indication of what was inside, but she braved every step anyway.

She had let the Force guide her on her own path, and now she stood at the precipice.

Morai swooped down and flew past her, disappearing into the darkened entrance.

And as Ahsoka took a step inside the temple's dark and seemingly empty entrance, she smiled and thought of Rex.

He's okay. He's not alone.

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me."

#thejolamoon #rexsoka #tcw rexsoka4ever #ahsoka and rex #rex and ahsoka #really long post #long reads #FIves is dead.#Go with me here #I really liked that Mortis Arc #SFW chapter

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

The Dog and Duck

summary: Dick Grayson is a terrible flirt (in more ways than one).

a/n: Special thanks to @jd-loves-everyone, @littleredwing89, @glorified-red, and @multifandomgirl-us for proofreading! This fic is based on a headcanon by @pricetagofficial (I think) that Dick Grayson is actually terrible at flirting which is just the cutest thing.

warnings: Potential cringe and terrible flirting advice

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The sound of voices and clinking of glasses mingle around you like a bustling symphony: discordant, rhythmic, clashing but endlessly vibrant. The scent of alcohol hung thick in the air, enough to taste and intoxicate. The amount of people in such a small space made something under your skin hum, whether it was simply an irritable Yasiri or the buzzing energy stored in your bones or maybe even a genuine discomfort, you weren’t entirely sure.

You sip lightly at the scotch in your glass, letting it burn through your throat, but it wasn’t enough to make the itch in it go away completely.

You watch Dick’s eyes intently as they slide past you, just over your shoulder. His sentences coalesce clumsily, syllables squishing and clipping at odd ends as his plush bottom lip catches between his teeth. His eyes are glossy with interest even in the dim lights of the pub. His pupils are blown and dark. You fight everything in you to stamp down the urge to huff or roll your eyes. Not that he would have noticed. You’re pretty sure you could stab someone in the eye and Dick wouldn’t even blink, not when he is so enraptured by whatever the hell is behind you. You feel a gross sticky sort of jealousy pool in the pit of your stomach. You swallow it down not really knowing of any other way to deal with it.

You arch a brow, the tips of your nails tapping loudly against the lacquered wood of the table as Dick once again stumbles absentmindedly over his story about Wally West being living proof of the need for warning labels (for people). You click your teeth irritably while Yasiri’s tail rattles against your collarbone before you take another sip, eyes following his only for them to land on a vivacious redhead at the bar. The irritation bubbling in your veins dwindles into mild amusement. Your best friend is a hilariously predictable moron.

“She is either a suspect or you’re being a creep.” You tease, the cruel curve of your lips barely obscured by the glass pressed against them. The mockery in your eyes shining amber like the drink in your glass. Dick’s cheeks flush as the playful lilt in your voice lances through the fog in his mind. He looks at you, dopey and red-cheeked as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. You roll your eyes, nostrils flaring letting out a breath caught between a huff and a laugh. “Stalker.” You hiss, trying to smother the warmth in your voice with sheer, unadulterated pettiness.

Dick levels you a look, cutting and vicious if he wasn’t flushed. “Am not.” He whines halfheartedly, eyes flicking once again to the woman at the bar. Some part of you is sure you really ought to be mad at him. After all, you haven’t seen each other for almost half a year. This is thanks in part to work and in part to work getting royally fucked up. Thankfully, not because of Gotham’s resident furry and his new little bird boy. Really, you should be furious at being sidelined considering this outing was his idea but here you were smirking into your malt whiskey, tickled.

“Then stop staring.” You challenge, unfolding and relaxing into the moldy cushioning of the bar. Dick glares at you, the pout on his lips obscured by his hand as he rests his chin on his palm but you know it’s there. You’ve memorized the plains of his face and how they shaped themselves, a product of spending far too much time staring at the details. Hey, if he was gonna third wheel you the least you could do was tease him about it. “Or do you want me to wingman for you~”

“HELL NO”

You can’t stop the cackle that spills from your lips. “Why not?!”

“I’m not letting you cockblock me. AGAIN.”

“That was one tiiime, Joystick.”

“Once was enough!"

"’Fiiiine but to be fair, you still ended up dating her, didn’t you?” You defended weakly, running your fingers through your hair, jostling the already wind whipped strands. Dick was red-faced. The liquor was definitely working through his system. The color in his cheeks was lively and cute, making him look boyish despite how much he’d grown. You had, in fact, cockblocked him due to an extreme bout of jealousy, childishness, and hormones. Back then you hadn’t yet learned the art of burying your feelings 6 feet under.

“Fine, fine, fine. Just shoot your shot, Dickie bird.” This does not appease him. He, in fact, crosses his arms over his chest. You set your glass down and raise your brow. “If you fail, I’ll buy you a round.” You add placatingly. Dick’s eyes slide over your shoulder, the lump in his throat bobbing.“Make that two.”

Your eyes shine, cat-like the dim lighting of the lamp overhead. You smile at him all cocksure, placing your chin on your intertwined fingers.“Deal.”

Dick gives you a withering look as he pushes off the table. You take a sip of your daiquiri as he moves through the crowd, gracefully slicing through the sea of bodies. No, maybe they were parting just for him. Dick does have that air about him. A pull that made it so painfully obvious that he was so much more. Dick also had this way of talking that made you unsure of whether you’re being flirted with or if it’s just the way he talks to people. Either way, he had this way of making you feel special and you had no doubt he would sweep this one off her feet.

The redhead at the bar tipped her head finally sensing his gaze on her and as per your expectation, she seemed to reciprocate the interest. Not that you can blame her. Dick was a 10 on his worst day. Now that you thought about it, you’ve never actually seen Dick flirt. You’ve seen him banter but flirt? You can’t seem to think of an instance of it. This’ll be fun.

You watch him closely and your brows climb higher than you thought they could. Something was off, something very un-Dick-like. There’s an unsteadiness in his step that makes your stomach sink. Dick wouldn’t. Even Dick wasn’t stupid enough to blow his shot just to get a few shots, would he?

And then it happened.

“Did it hurt when you hit your face?” Dick asks, winking stiffly. A ripple of pain lances through you followed by an unbearable wave of second-hand embarrassment. “Excuse me?!” Her face morphs into something terrifying before Dick’s brain can catch up. You watch in mute horror as Dick’s face slowly matches the sinking feeling in your gut as embarrassment suffused his entire body.

“Wait, shit. I- I meant- Shit. I didn’t mean to say you look like you banged your face. I mean, of course, you don’t-” You watch in fascination as Dick stumbles through apology after apology after apology. Until finally, he gives up. “Actually, I’ll just leave.” Dick shambles gracelessly back to your table while your brain tries to process what just happened.

You wheeze against the table, pounding your fist against the table. “Dickie, yanno you did have a shot before you opened your mouth, right?” Your hand is clamped over your mouth trying to stop the shrill cackle bubbling in your throat.

“Y/n...”

“Jeez, Dicktopus, was gin really worth getting blue balled?”

“You better have your money,” he sneers, cutting you a scathing look as he slides into the booth.

“I-” The smug look on your face vanishes when you reach into your wallet. “If I apologize for you, will you cut me some slack?” you try, brandishing your nearly empty wallet.

“I’ll buy you a shot if she doesn’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Hmm, if I get her number for you, will you get me two?”

“Sure, why not?” Dick whines petulantly. His head sinks into his arms desperately trying very hard to implode. You cough into your sleeve trying not to laugh and hope he doesn’t notice. A blush creeps up the tanned skin of his neck. He tries to hide it by placing his hand on his neck but the color’s already made its way to his ears. Feeling a little bad for him, you squeeze Dick’s shoulder once, then twice, then twice once more. You swing your legs dramatically out of the booth. You hear Dick groan and you chuckle.

You flick your eyes to him one last time before moving forward. You roll your shoulders, realigning your form into something more suave and less goofy. The rhythm of your feet goes from a clumsy shuffle to a confident saunter. The woman looks at you skeptically, her lashes fluttering mockingly. You move, easy and casual. With a playful grin, you apologize and make up some bullshit excuse about Dick being extremely shy. She eases. You continue on your little sales pitch as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You draw a laugh out of her. You can hear her heart pick up. She smiles at you telling you that you and your shy friend are fine. You chuckle and promise to tell your long-suffering friend that, tilting your chin towards Dick who is still trying to melt into the table. She scribbles her number onto a napkin and hands it to you with a flirtatious wink. You smile lopsided, cute and sheepish, as you wave her goodbye.

Dick stares at you with slack-jawed awe. This time you feel genuinely bashful but you shrug it away with a sharklike grin spreading across your face.

“Pay up, pretty bird,” you say slamming the number on the table, teeth gleaming in the low light of the room. The petty satisfaction oozing off of you is almost palpable. Dick looks up at you, his pretty mouth twisting. “What are you? Seven?”

“If by seven you mean lucky, then yeah,” you sneer, nudging your empty shot glass against Dick’s shoulder. “Pay up, Dickenson~” you sing. Dick’s face twists even more and he waves you off, pushing off the table.

“Let’s just go,” Dick bites out, cheeks burning. You bite your lips trying to resist the urge to tease him more but it’s hard. Not when he’s all pouty and cute.

“I mean you did just wine and dine me,” you laugh musically. You promised yourself you would stop teasing him but you never said you would stop making jokes. There’s a complicated expression on Dick’s face before it shifts back to exasperation.

“You. Are. Awful.”

You shake your head not even denying it as you follow him out of the old Dog and Duck into the fresh Bludhaven air.

“How are you good at this?” Dick whines into one of your throw pillows. The poorly counterfeit superman one he had gotten you a few years ago from a trip to the Philippines. He's pouting at you like a kid. To be fair, you did laugh at him in the club (and the whole way back to your safehouse which was not a short walk).

You chuckle, tapping a cool can of beer against his forehead.“Sadly some of us need to work at being charming, Dimples McGee.” He accepts the can, scowling at you. Your grin doesn’t waver which only serves to deepen his scowl. It was an irritating feedback loop. Well, irritating for Dick. You’re having the time of your life. You settle on the other side of the couch rolling your beer can in your hand. “ Plus, you’ve seen pops talk right? The man sweet talks like his life depends on it.”

“Right, I’ll remember to ask him for flirting advice next time he tries to kill me,” Dick says, rolling his eyes at you. You perk up at the awful idea before you snicker and press a hand to your lips in a barely held back smile. It’s Dick’s turn to perk up. His blue eyes shine with interest at your expression like he’s trying to capture it. You turn to him with a serious expression. “Please, please ask him that. I will pay you to record his reaction. Please. Please. Dickle, please,” you beg, moving on your knees to his side, your hands clasped in prayer. Dick shifts sticking his tongue out at you childishly.

“Noooooo!”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaseee”

“No!”

With an ‘oof’, you plop yourself between Dick’s legs, your chest against his. You stare up at him with eyes mimicking the wide-eyed innocent look he uses on you when he asks for a favor. Dick gives you a sorry look asking you to please drop it. You don’t. You double down trying to look as cute as possible.

Dick looks down at you, glaring then grimacing then smiling. “Ok, fine,” he huffs stiffly, wrapping his arms around you. You snuggle up against him, smug in your victory. Your nose brushes against Dick’s pulse which makes his breath hitch. He squirms under you but you just find yourself laughing. “You. Are. Evil. ”

“I promise to make your Granny’s goulash,” you say in a halfhearted attempt to appease him. Dick’s face softens “Now, that’s just bribery.”

“You’re gonna be a cop here in Bludhaven. You gotta learn how to take bribes.”

His brows crease as you shake your head. Dick huffs, planting his chin against the crown of your head before pressing his lips to your hair. You feel one of his arms pulling you closer, his hand threading through the tangle of your hair. You smile against his skin, breath tickling him which just makes him squirm. He’s breathless under your touch and you don’t even know it. You two sit basking in the close proximity and the soft intimacy you two shared. Your limbs tangle and twine around each other carelessly.

Out of context, you two could have been lovers.

You sigh, feeling a bit drowsy from the ‘tussle’. You blink, mind reaching for something. “Wait…. Brucie flirts like his life depends on it too! What’s your excuse?” you grin, jabbing a finger into his chest. Dick scowls at you, clearly flustered again. He stammers, babbling out answers. “Hey, I- I could probably do it...” Dick mutters, finally finding a semblance of coherence.

“After that performance?” You challenge, sitting up, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. A sharp laugh spills from your lips. It’s louder than you intended, your entire chest moving along with every exhalation of air.

Dick looks at you like a kicked puppy which has you roaring with laughter. “You don’t have to laugh that hard”

“Admit it, Grayson, you are an actual bonafide dork”

“I’ll bonafide you,” he growls and you’re bent into the couch cushions, clutching your stomach. Dick looks like your house plant like he’s about to disintegrate. You sit up again and cross your legs. Your lungs expand as you draw in another calming breath before you give him a softer, lopsided smile, placing a hand on his knee and shaking him gently. “Come on, practice on me I’m probably one of the few people you don’t have a stick up your ass around.” Dick, not getting up, puts his hands in his face looking positively mortified by the idea. You make a little affronted noise in the back of your throat and thanks to whatever god is up there that you don’t seem to know how much he doesn’t wanna fuck up flirting with you.

“I don’t know how to!” The cry is muffled but the mortification still bleeds through. The admission startles something out of you. “Holy shit, Nightwing can’t flirt his way out of a paper bag. Oh my god, this is great!” you cackle, falling into the cushions.

“I’m trying damn it!”

“Ok. Ok. Ok.” You breathe. You’re still clutching your still aching stomach. You wish you recorded that confession. “Ok. Phew. Ok, I need a minute,” you say folding over into the cushions again, another bubble of laughter rising in your throat. This is the best ab workout you’ve had in months.

“Take your time,” Dick deadpans, rolling his eyes, color rising in his tanned cheeks.

“Ooook, I think I’m good. First, we need to work on your wink.”

“The hell is wrong with my wink?” A wry smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You make vague hand gestures, hoping somehow you could physically pluck the correct words from the air. “Just try winking, Ric.” Dick raises his brow but gives in. He winks at you in his usual devilishly charming way. You shake your head. “Wink at me like you’re trying to get my number.”

He stiffens and gives you the most artificial wink you’ve seen outside of a bad 50s flick. You drag your hand over your face. “How come you can wink so naturally while fighting and look like you work at in car sales when you flirt”

Dick tries again. He ends up closing both his eyes and scrunching his nose- looking like a disgruntled puppy. You squeal and Dick’s eyes fly open. Your mouth works to flatten itself but your mind is still picturing the expression. “What?” he growls. You wave him off. “Sorry. Sorry. Just- just try again. Please.”

Dick gives you another stiff wink and you’re surprised to find yourself cringing at your best friend for the first time in your life. You drag your hand over your face. “You look like you’re trying to ask me to prom.”

“You’ve never even been to a prom!”

“Who do you think scares off Joey’s dates? Pops?” you snort picking up your beer can and taking a sip. “Did you miss the absentee father part?”

You both silently agree to move on.

“How the flying fuck did you date both Babs and Kory with your atrocious flirting skills?”

“I have good pick up lines.”

“Uh, sure, buddy.”

“It worked on both of them!”

“Well, hit me.”

“Call me Fred Flintstone,” you wait patiently, “cause I’ll make your bedrock.” Another artificial wink.

You blink at him, mind still trying to catch up. “Dick you are the epitome of ‘you’re lucky you’re cute’,” you groan, palm flat against your forehead.

“I’m not cute! I’m handsome!” Dick protests, mouth twisting into a pout. A shrill squeal is dying in the back of your throat as you draw a breath. You pinch his cheeks, “you pouting just furthers my point.”

“Are you just trying to destroy my confidence?” Dick whines, lightly shoving you away.

“Oh no, the girl back at the club did that. I am just dancing on your grave.”

“Give me another wink.”

Dick fails at winking, again. You cringe openly at him and he scowls at you halfheartedly, more defeated than angry. Dick’s used to being good at things, you supposed. You tap your finger against your chin, trying to unspool a thought and rethread it into words. “Ok, figured out one of your problems.”

“Aside from my terminal dorkiness?”

“You’re too nervous-”

“You would be too,” Dick cuts in.

You snicker, teeth bared in a mocking grin. ”Did you miss the part where I got her number?” Dick refuses to answer. You sigh but you can’t keep the smile off your face. “Let’s start with body language because for a guy with so much muscle control you are shit at this.”

“You’re just gonna keep being mean,” he moans.

“I’ll stop being mean when you sweep me off my feet,” you jab.

“Ok, fine, maestro. What do you need me to do?”

“You’ve got to lean into me and smile coyly,” you say vaguely. Dick leans in close, your noses touching, his lips ghosting over yours. You can feel his breath hot against your lips. It sends bolts of electricity careening through your nerves. Your brain takes its sweet time catching up, giving your body ample time to soak up the proximity of the almost kiss. You gasp then reign yourself in. “Dickle, that’s- that’s a teensy bit too close,” you laugh awkwardly, hands playfully shoving at his chest.

Dick shakes out of his haze. “You said to lean in!” he says leaning into your space again. “Yeah, I did but I never said lean in close enough to eat my face. I can smell the gin in your breath,” you snort airly, pushing at his chest again.

Dick sits back, embarrassment creeping into his features. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth as if he’s thinking carefully about his next few words. “I’m just-” Dick puts his head in his hands. “Like you said, I’m too nervous.”

You raise a brow. The sound that comes out of you is too sharp and disbelieving to be a laugh. “Pfffft, it’s just me, you dork.”

That’s the problem, Dick thinks. It’s you. The exasperation bleeds into his features. Dick fidgets, shifting and shaking in his seat like a wet chihuahua. Don’t you know how much he wants to get this right for you?.

“Stop twitching! You look like you’re having a seizure.”

“I’m nervous!!” he says. “Don’t you ever get nervous about a person you like?”

You side eye him. “I do,” you admit, rubbing your thumb over your tattoo out of habit. Dick’s eyes widen, then narrow. You see the word ‘who’ forming on his lips but his train of thought is cut off by the sound of Yasiri’s tail rattling against your skin as she emerges. Your poor danger noodle is likely frustrated with the lack of progress. You quietly thank her by scratching her chin. “Whatever made this world just decided that you had to have at least one very obvious flaw,” you say, insincerely patting him on the back.

“You're enjoying this.”

“Way more than you think,” you say grinning at him. Dick simply grimaces at you. “You’re not helping me.”

“Were you really expecting me to help?” You shrug. “Why would I do that?”

“I’d help you!”

You level him with a flat look. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d laugh just as hard as I did.” Dick opens his mouth then closes it. He opens it again. You raise your brow at him. “ I- ok yeah. No, I would laugh harder,” he says, giving you a cheeky, lopsided smile. Vindication and something warmer tug your features into a smile.

“Just… relax and be yourself,” you mock sagely. Dick rests his head on yours. “ I hate you,” he groans, pressing his shoulder into yours.

“You’re just thinking about it too much,” you say, pressing back, “just do what’s natural. The more you over try the funnier it is.”

“Goes back to my problem of being nervous,” he huffs into your hair. You boop his nose. “Goes back to my point about you overthinking things.”

“I’m not!”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” you say, reaching back and presenting your danger noodle in your palm, "practice on Yazzy.”

“You’re not serious?”

You hold up the clearly unamused snake eye level with Dick. “Go on." Dick gives you a withering look. He exasperates, then looks deep into Yasiri’s black eyes. He opens his mouth and Yasiri flicks her tongue at him. The next few things happen in quick succession. Dick’s body relaxes. His face breaks into a smile that makes your heart flutter. He lets out a bubble of laughter that has you jumping and reaching for your own breath. "I can't!" he gasps. You both dissolve into laughter.

“Suit yourself - but prepare to have blue balls," you grin, punching his shoulder, "at least, they'll match your new suit!" you cackle. Dick flushes red.“I - I - you are legally the worst and most unhelpful human being in modern history!”

Your cackle rises higher even as Dick shoves a pillow in your face. You push it away and wipe the tears away from your eyes. “Just practice on me, go on,” you say, reaching out, “once more." He frowns at you. "Please?”

Dick closes his eyes. His movements become leisurely the way you've seen him when he's about to do a routine on the trapeze. “Do you have a map?” he says, pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. The oxygen in your lungs evaporates. Heat spreads from the line of skin Dick’s finger grazed to the rest of your body. You swallow trying not to collapse under the weight of his gaze. You realize he's expecting an answer. "No, why?” you stammer out stupidly.

“Because I keep getting lost in your eyes,” he says, eyes glittering in the dim lights of your apartment. Some part of your brain short circuits, fizzing out in sparks and fire, then the rest of your brain follows. The entire structure goes out in a puff of smoke. You're completely frozen. Dick watches you with a furrowed brow, bottom lip caught between your teeth. Apprehension rolls off of him in waves and you can feel your lungs work again. "Exactly! Exactly that!" You squeal in delight. Dick smiles relieved. "I knew you could do it, you magnificent dork. I could kiss you right now!" you say squishing his cheeks and pressing your forehead against his. Dick’s breath catches. There's a hopeful look in his eyes. "Would you?"

Something clogs your throat as you pull away. You're pretty sure it's your heart. You force the nervous laughter in your throat into something else. "Need practice with that too, Dickens?"

"Dunno," he hedges, eyes holding yours, "you tell me." His hand cups the side of your face. You ease into his touch like a marshmallow dissolving into hot cocoa. "Can I?" he whispers, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. He's being careful with you you realize. Your eyes flutter closed. You can feel your nerves disentangling. They cross and recross so that you're fully aware of your lips. The gap between the two of you is small but it feels so impossibly big. Anticipation, anxiety, and excitement all thicken the spaces between you. You want him. You want this. Is it so wrong?

"Yes."

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson #merc!reader #my writing

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dearest-bucky · 4 years

Text

Birthday wish (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn’t love his birthdays, but maybe he can learn to.

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: none, a fluffy ending as usual hihii

A/N: I was supposed to write and post this on Bucky’s birthday but couldn’t find it in me to do, so here it is now. I hope you like it! Feedback is truly appreciated! xx

Originally posted: March 19. 2020

Monday, 11:05 PM

It was late and they were all battered and exhausted, but despite that, they still had to swipe the place to find any new information on Hydra and then blow it up to hell.

What was supposed to be a simple recon mission, ended up being a real bloodbath. As always. When has there ever been such thing as a simple mission with the Avengers? Something would always come and fuck up the plans for an easy in and out job.

This time the fuck up came in the form of more than a dozen Hydra thugs charging at them with guns and knifes, resulting in the death of them of course. But despite the result and the fact that they won the battle, the Avengers didn’t come out without scratches or wounds themselves.

Steve had a busted lip, Bucky was having technical problems with his arm because of a bullet that was caught in it, Sam had a seemingly deep gash on his side that kept oozing blood out and Y/n was fuming because ‘she had just done her nails the other day and she broke one of them while fighting with those Hydra bastards’.

“Thirty seconds until explosion.” Steve informed over the comms and all of them made a run for the jet before they could get caught in the big boom.

As soon as they got in, y/n was on Sam’s side, helping him with his wound.

“C'mon Bird Man, I have get you out of this shirt if you don’t want to die of bleeding out.”

“If you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask sweetheart.” Despite the fact that his skin was paler than ever before and he was losing all energy, Sam still couldn’t give up him sense of humor.

Bucky who was sitting just a few inches away, chuckled at his words but said nothing anyway.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and pressed on his gash with an alcohol pad a little more than necessary, making Sam wince in pain. Then she continued to clean his wound and did her best to stop the bleeding until they got to the compound. She was no doctor after all, and every specific procedure would have to wait for a real specialist of medicine.

Tuesday, March 10 3:34 AM

After arriving at the compound and literally taking Sam with force to the medical bay, Y/n could finally get to her own room and get a well deserved shower. The mission had taken a toll on her, same as on everybody else, but to be fair, those super soldiers had it easier when it came to fighting.

Once she got in the shower and let the hot water wash down all the dirt and blood off of her, she felt herself immediately relax. It was all she needed and she could live there forever. However, after another 10 minutes of thoroughly washing herself she turned the water off and wrapped a big fluffy towel around her body.

Next thing in the list: sleep.

She patted her body dry with the towel and changed into a pair of clean pajama, falling in her bed like the dead, immediately shutting her mind out and letting sleep take her away.

She was soundly sleeping when her door silently opened and somebody got in her room with small, quiet steps.

“Doll, you awake?” Nothing more than a whispered voice breaking the silence of the night, and when the only answer he got was her heavy breathing, he turned around without so much as a noise and left, just as he had come.

Y/n was still soundly sleeping.

5:00 AM

Bucky couldn’t sleep. No matter how tired he was. No matter how much he wanted to close his eyes and get a couple of much needed hours of sleep. He couldn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t shut his mind.

Today was his birthday. Not that he cared that much about it. He had had more birthdays than he cares to count anymore, but there was something about the date that made him restless.

He was currently in his room, half laying in his bed, a few old photos scattered carelessly on his blanket. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of them.

One of his mother with a little baby on her arms, his baby sister Rebecca. A couple more of his parents, one of his sister alone. Another of him, in his army uniform, a boyish smirk plastered on his face.

“Young fool.” He thought to himself.

All those pictures were some kind of present from Steve when he first got back from Wakanda. He said they would help him with his recovery, and of course everyone should have at least a couple of photos of their family.

After all, they were the only thing he had left from his family. And Bucky really held on to those photographs.

With most of his memories back, he remembers one of his early birthdays. He was turning 20, probably, and he and Steve had gone to this dance club in Manhattan.

He had literally begged Steve to go with him there just to dance with some pretty dames he couldn’t remember their names anymore. And that was not because of the brainwashing.

Now he hated his birthdays. Just another day to remind him he shouldn’t be alive now, in this year. Another reminder of all the things he had been through in his long, miserable life.

He let out a long sigh and turned to lay on his side, placing the photos carefully on his nightstand.

10:30 AM

The kitchen was buzzing with lively chatter, however not everyone was feeling their brightest today.

With most of the team having a day off, it was natural they wanted to spend it relaxing at home, so they were all enjoying their late breakfast and talking with each other about everything and more.

Y/n made her way to the coffee machine for the second time that morning and Natasha chuckled at her state; eyes puffy from tiredness, as if she hadn’t slept a wink, hair messy, she didn’t care enough to look at least presentable today.

“Aren’t you a treat for the eyes?” She teased and y/n just grunted in response, chugging down a large sip of her coffee.

Only after she had drank the second mug, she rubbed her face with her hands and tried to pat down the messy hair by combing it with her fingers.

She turned to look around the room, finding Natasha and Wanda sitting near her talking about God knows what, she wasn’t paying attention to any of it.

Steve was standing a few feet away, reading a newspaper like a grandpa. No matter how much anybody tried to convince him to read the news online, he insisted that actually touching the newspaper was quite a feeling. Weird old man.

Bruce and Tony were just next to Steve talking about their next science project, apparently, and Vision was creepily floating on Tony’s left side, listening intently to what they were saying.

Just as she averted her eyes to look for somebody else, Sam entered the kitchen looking so much better than last night, a bright smile adorning his silly handsome face.

“Good morning everyone.” He greeted cheerfully and all the people in the room greeted him back with the same enthusiasm.

Steve was the first to fold the newspaper he was reading and got up from his seat, patting Sam on the shoulder and asking him if he was doing okay.

When they both sat down again Y/n went to Sam with a plate of pancakes Wanda had made earlier and a cup of hot coffee, offering it to him.

His eyes shone bright and he stretched his arms out to give her a hug. “You’re an angel.” He said only for her to hear and she grinned in response.

“Do you know where Bucky is?” Y/n then asked when she sat down next to both men. “Is he still sleeping?”

Steve shifted in his seat uncomfortably and smiled sweetly her way, trying to not make his best friend look weird in y/n’s eyes.

“No, he actually got up about an hour ago and he left the compound. Said he had some work to do.”

Y/n only nodded her head in understanding.

She knew today was Bucky’s birthday and she knew how much he hated it, just like he hated making a big deal out of it, like celebrating or throwing a party. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t even wish him “Happy birthday”. However if he was out of the compound all day there was no way for her to do that either.

If there was one thing y/n knew though, was that she wasn’t going to let this go. No matter how much Bucky tried to disappear on his birthday as a way to avoid the wishes and presents and whatnot, y/n was a really stubborn person, so she wouldn’t let him off the hook easily this time.

Last year she had made him a cake and when all the team were having dinner together she brought the cake out singing “happy birthday” to Bucky. What she didn’t expect though, was for him to get upset with her and storm out of the room.

When she went after him to ask what was wrong he yelled at her saying that 'She didn’t have to do anything for him. They were not even friends so why would she care about his birthday. He didn’t even care about his own birthday!!’

But that was last year though. Last year Y/n was new to the team and Bucky was right, they weren’t even friends. They were barely teammates at that point.

This year however, things were different.

With each passing day after that 'dreadful one’, as y/n jokingly calls it now, they have actually created a special bond with each other, relying on each other a little more than they both would care to admit. It was a unusual connection, something neither of them could name. Something between more than friends but less than lovers. Something between denial and acceptance of feelings. Feelings they still hadn’t labelled.

9:15 PM

Bucky hadn’t returned to the compound the whole day. She had been waiting for him to come back sometime, but after waiting around for most of the day, she decided to stop sulking around in her room waiting for Friday to let her know when he was back.

With a newfound purpose she made her way to the kitchen and got out everything she needed from the cupboards to make little cupcakes. Every flavor she could think of; chocolate and peanut butter, vanilla, chocolate filling, sprinkles strawberry, red velvet.

After whole hours of mixing and baking she put them all in a serving tray, putting them on the counter for anyone who would pass by the kitchen to see and eat.

All but one. She picked a chocolate one and a small birthday candle and headed to Bucky’s room. She knew he wasn’t back yet, but she figured she could wait for him there.

After more than half an hour waiting and still no sign of Bucky, y/n was starting to feel sleepy.

She glanced at the small clock on his nightstand, bright red numbers shining 11:54 PM on the screen.

Figuring it was only 6 more minutes until his birthday would be over, she just lit the candle and placed the cupcake on the nightstand as well, the candle slowly burning. She decided to lay down on his bed to rest her eyes for a moment before he would come back.

She knew he was about to come back. With the day finally being over and everything.

It was strange how well she knew him. But then again, they had spent the best of last year’s together, most of the time attached to the hip and during this whole time they had learned almost everything about each other.

With thoughts of him in mind she fell asleep slowly, then all at once.

11:57 PM

Bucky sighed when he arrived at the compound. He had been all day out wandering around New York, mostly in Brooklyn, comparing new stores with the old ones, alleys, streets, bars, everything.

He opened the door to his room quietly, force of habit really, this whole having to always be quiet thing. But he also didn’t want to make too much noise that could wake any of the guys up, especially Steve whose room was next to his.

Just as he got inside his room, his eyes fell on the body that was curled on his bed, sleeping soundly. Then to the cupcake on the nightstand, with the candle almost entirely melted, but still lighting. His mind connected the dots easily and he let out a breath he didn’t know was holding.

He shuffled awkwardly around the room until he decided to wake y/n up, going to the bed, half hovering over her.

“Y/n…” He shook her arm slightly, but it was enough for her to wake up.

“Bucky.” She smiled at him sweetly, one of her smiles that was always directed to him and he knew that well.

Her eyes quickly averted to the cupcake beside her and she got herself up, now sitting on the bed and quickly took the small dessert in her hands. The clock was showing the time 11:59 PM.

“Quick, blow it!” The candle was half out, just a small flame hanging in there, like a last breath of life.

Upon seeing the hopeful glint in her eyes, he blew the candle out without a second thought and she smiled at him again.

“Happy Birthday Bucky!” Her voice was barely a whisper but he heard it clear.

Not wanting to break her heart with his grumpiness he smiled back and thanked her.

“Did you make a wish?”

He nodded his head softly.

He had made his wish way before that moment. Actually, since the moment he saw her enter the compound after Nick Fury when she was just a new recruit. Then he had made his wish when she made a birthday cake for him in his last birthday. And he had made his wish yesterday before they went on that mission, and after they came back.

He had been making wishes every day since the day he met her. And it was always the same.

With big eyes she was looking at his face, expectantly, waiting for him to tell her what he wished for.

Instead he showed her.

Putting the cupcake back on the nightstand he took her hands in his and closed the distance between them, kissing her softly. He lightly swept his tongue between her lips, pressing his warm, soft lips to hers.

She sighed against his mouth and he felt his heart flutter in his chest. Maybe he could learn to love his birthday again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines

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whumpflumpthump · 3 years

Text

MacGyver Fic Continuation

Continuation of this, which was a continuation of this. :)

Hi wonderful people!! I am back with the third and (probably) final installment in my very small story that stemmed from “Waking Up.” I hope you enjoy one of my first attempts at fluff!

Warnings: Mentions of violence and torture.

I hope you enjoy!!

....

“I got it!” Riley exclaimed from where she was sitting, perched behind her computer.

Bozer, Riley, Jack, and Matty all jumped up. They had all gathered in the War Room after Mac had failed to meet Jack for their dinner. After looking in the usual places for him, and Mac not answering any of their calls, they had assumed that he had been taken, a circumstance that sadly happened way too often in their line of work.

“Where is he Riley?” Jack asked.

“Some abandoned warehouse on the West side of town. I sent the address to your phone.”

“A TAC team is waiting on you downstairs,” Matty said, “Go get our boy back.”

Jack nodded and walked out the door.

When he noticed Riley and Bozer following him, he turned to argue, but one look at their faces told him they would not be swayed.

Sighing, he continued on. Reaching the awaiting TAC team, he quickly gave them a run down of the situation and the address Riley had given them.

Without pausing to make sure he was understood, Jack, Riley, and Bozer made their way to the waiting truck. Within two minutes they were on their way.

No one talked the entire twenty-minute drive, they were all worried. Not everyone knew the blonde as well as his team did, but none of them were blind to his boyish charm and the kindness that he showed to everyone he met. There was no denying that they all felt a certain fondness over Angus MacGyver.

After their silent trip, they had finally arrived at the address. It looked like it used to be a storehouse for some canning company, but had fallen into disrepair as the business closed. It now was covered in a greenish-brown vine that crawled up the edge of the building to give the whole warehouse a very unsettling appearance, and with the slow rain falling outside, it looked like a scene from a very bad horror movie.

Of course they would choose the creepiest building.

And why did it have to be raining?

Jack was beginning to hate the person who took Mac even more than he had previously, which was no easy feat.

The TAC team spread out to scan the perimeter. After a chorus of “Clear”s, they were ready to breach. Jack was practically bouncing with anticipation as they prepared to enter.

Riley seemed to sense his anticipation, and moved to be next to him. “He’ll be alright. He’s Mac,” she said quietly, fighting down her own nerves.

Jack couldn’t seem to find the energy to respond, so he just nodded. He waited one more second, and then opened the door, trying to make the least amount of noise possible.

They slowly crept inside, and, once his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the warehouse, Jack saw he was in a large room, with two little hallways branching off to the left and right.

Half of the team took the left hallway, and the other half, including Jack, took the right.

As he was walking through the damp corridor, Jack pulled one of his guns out of the holster on his hip. His unease was mounting every second that he didn’t see the skinny blonde that had somehow wormed his way into his heart.

Finally, he reached the end of the hallway, and was facing a door. When he opened it, he saw he was staring down a staircase. When the building was still in use, it probably led down to a freezer room. As he, followed by half the TAC team, walked down the stairs, he found himself in front of another door.

When he opened this one, he saw that it still led to a small room, but it was no longer a freezer. In the middle of the room, with his back to them, sat Mac.

“Mac!” Jack exclaimed, forgetting to check his surroundings before racing towards the boy. “Mac!” he shouted again when he didn’t get an answer.

He discovered why when he saw Mac clearly. His head was drooped over his chest, and he was obviously unconscious. Anger for whoever did this was simmering in Jack, threatening to spill over into rage, but he pushed it down. Revenge could wait, his first mission was to get Mac to Phoenix Medical,

He found himself gasping as he took in the rest of MacGyver’s injuries. His shirt was hanging in threads, and cuts of varying depths were littered all over the boy’s body, from his chest to his forearms. However, the worst was the wound from the knife that was still stuck in Mac’s thigh, blood slowly oozing out.

Jack pulled his gaze away from Mac’s cuts to focus on the restraints keeping him in his chair. He started working on the leather straps across his ankles, and, once those were free, he moved on to his wrists. As he started to undo the leather, Mac groaned as the leather rubbed against his already raw wrists. Jack glanced sympathetically towards his friend, but continued to undo his restraints.

Once he finished with Mac’s wrists, he moved to the strap across his chest, slowly undoing it. Mac started to slump forward, and Jack frantically searched for a way to brace him, without putting much pressure on Mac’s bloody chest. He quickly moved so that he was holding Mac upright by his shoulders, and then scooped Mac up so he was holding him bridal style in his arms.

As he was carrying MacGyver out, he noticed something sitting on a small table.

It was a wine cork.

Murdoc.

He was going to kill that-

His thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of Riley and Bozer, red faced. They looked at Jack and the unconscious blonde in his hands and their faces fell.

“Is he...” Riley started, unable to finish.

“Yes, he’s alive. Right now I really just need to get him back to Medical, and RIley,” he called back, already rushing out of the room, “Tell Matty it was Murdoc.”

...

Mac awoke slowly, his bright blue eyes fluttering open. The first thing he noticed was the bright fluorescent lights above him. He knew what that meant. He was in Medical, again.

As he looked down to examine himself, he noticed that the many cuts on his chest and arms were bandaged, along with the stab wound on his leg. The pain had also decreased, probably due to the pain medication that was definitely getting pumped through the IV hooked up to him.

Finally, he noticed the other occupant in the room, Jack. He was sitting in a chair, seemingly lost in thought, as he had not yet realized Mac was awake.

“Jack,” Mac said, his voice barely a whisper.

Jack almost jumped at that, turning to face the bed where Mac lay. “Buddy, you scared me for a minute there.” He said it with a smile, but Mac could see the genuine fear underneath, he frowned.

“I’m sorry,” Mac said, “for worrying you.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, man. Besides, I knew you’d pull through, you always do.”

“Jack,” Mac said, his tone growing more urgent, “it was Murdoc, that’s who kidnapped me.”

“We know buddy,” Jack’s eyes darkened, “he made sure we knew. But don’t worry, the team is working on finding him as we speak, and I won’t ever let anything like that happen. Ever. Okay?’

Mac wasn’t sure he could keep that promise, but he smiled nonetheless, “Got it,”

“Now,” Jack said, starting to smirk “there are some pretty worried people out there dying to see you.”

....

Thanks so much for reading!! I think that’s it for this story, I hope you enjoyed it! Have a great day!!

#macgyver fanfiction #macgyver fanfic #mine #macgyver #angus macgyver #fanfiction #fanfic #Jack Dalton #Riley Davis #Bozer #rescue #fluff #kind of...#thanks for reading #i had a good time writing this #enjoy!

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johnnydoe69 · 4 years

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The Switch

I woke up in a forest in nothing but a medical gown, surrounded by soldiers trapped in orange slime.

Sprawled out on the forest floor, I picked myself up and stumbled out of the clearing. The orange slime twitched and moved as I walked past, occasionally gathering in larger chunks or shrinking away to let me through. Everything felt strange and I was extremely lightheaded. My feet were bruised, bloody, and starting to swell. I wandered for what could have been hours or minutes when I came upon someone’s backyard.

I climbed the small metal fence and landed uneasily onto the well-manicured lawn. At the base of the house was a garden hose and desperately dehydrated, I wandered over and began drinking from it. After I had satisfied my thirst, I took to cleaning off as much dirt, blood, and orange goo as possible. By the time I finished, I was soaking wet and freezing, my medical gown pressed against my emaciated body.

That's when I noticed the comforting aroma of barbecued ribs coming from inside the house. It sat right on the kitchen counter, unguarded, and drizzled with sweet honey. Still, in a daze, I made my way up to the back porch and tested the door. I found it to be unlocked and I quietly slipped inside.

The smell of the ribs was even more intoxicating inside the house than out and I pounced on them like a wild animal. I never even took the time to chew, each rib smoothly slid down the back of my throat and immediately started to dissolve. When I finished, I slumped to the floor, taking everything in.

I suddenly realized that what I had just done should have been biologically impossible and yet, the bone, meat, and sauce, was absorbed into my body within minutes, providing me with a shockwave of energy.

Testing my limits and vaguely remembering using my arm as a sword against the soldiers, I willed my fingers to fuse into something sharp. In seconds, the fingers of my right hand became one and sharpened into a blade the color of rust.

Terrified, I quickly asked my hand to go back to normal and it obliged, the sword separating into fingers and returning to my natural skin color.

Below me, there was the squeak of feet on hardwood and the sound of footsteps heading upwards to a nearby door in the kitchen. I dove behind the counter, my heart rate pulsing.

The door opened and a man shuffled out.

He wore nothing but a tight-fitting lavender polo and a silky drawstring thong, looking very clean despite just cooking with barbeque sauce. He blearily looked to the counter and his eyes opened wide.

“What the fuck?” he stammered.

He ran over to the pan and examined it. Cold sweat dripped down my back and I did my best not to breathe.

“Nate? Baby, did you come home and finish all these without me?” the man asked, nervously, searching the room.

His bare feet edged inches away from where I hid and before I could think I grabbed his foot on impulse. From the palm of my hand, tendrils made of ooze penetrated the man through his foot and inserted itself directly into his bloodstream.

He gasped, but before he could scream or move, a paralyzing agent was introduced to his body, pacifying him. Moving with the paralyzing agent were the tendrils themselves, growing and expanding as they rode the current of his circulatory system before reaching his brain. From there it quickly gained control of his entire body, inserting itself into the many grooves of his brain, until his every heartbeat, breath, and thought was firmly under my control.

I pulled my hand away and the tendrils connecting us severed. The man wobbled on his feet, eyes rolling to the back of his head, before finally falling hard on his back, with a silly grin plastered on his face.

I stood up. The man remained silent, his breathing slow and relaxed. Despite removing my hand from his form I could still feel deep inside him, the ooze communicating back to me every function that was being conducted in his body.

Taking a deep breath, I kneeled back down, and using the influence of the ooze in his body, I looked over some of his surface memories.

The man was Max Larsen. 29. Ex- fashion model, now a computer programmer. Married to Nate. Living on the outskirts of Benton in upstate New York. The date was March 7th, Nate and Max's 3rd wedding anniversary.

I looked up and sure enough a bright and sparkly banner with the words “Happy Anniversary to Us” spanned the kitchen.

I sighed. Nate would be home in an hour and there was no telling when the reinforcements for the military unit I devastated would arrive.

Acting partially on instinct, partially on intuition, I placed my hand on Max’s foot again. Establishing a better connection with the ooze in his body, I willed my body to take on Max’s form.

The first thing to change was my arms. They inflated with muscle, tissue pulled, and past their normal limits to match decades of exercise. The next thing to change was my skin tone, shifting from a fluorescent white that hadn't seen the sun in years, to a healthy tan that had just left the beach. Accompanied by the skin color change was a light dusting of blonde hair that started from my arms and began growing over my once hairless body. Then my chest enlarged with muscle, my pecs growing to the size of milk jugs, straining the fabric of the ripped medical gown. My neck and shoulders quickly followed, adding more weight to a body that was now more than a little too top-heavy.

I fell over, panting from the strain, my hand still firmly on Max's foot. I relied on my newfound upper body strength to keep me upright, but soon my lower half began filling out to pick up the slack. From my waist down muscle and a thin layer of fat were added to my body as I felt my dick grow several inches, my balls dropping against my skinny legs. From there my legs ballooned to accommodate the rest of my body and a perky bubble butt replaced my bony ass. Soon I was able to support myself by just kneeling again and picked myself up.

Then I felt my face begin to change, bones cracking and breaking to fit a new shape, making me wheeze with pain. Once that was finished, hair sprouted on my face and the top of my head, growing thicker and heavier as the seconds trickled past.

When all the pain in my body receded, I grabbed Max’s phone off the counter and checked for my reflection in his camera. I was his spitting image, albeit covered in barbeque sauce and a ratty medical gown that was now two sizes too small.

Then I went to work on Max. I needed a decoy to throw my assailants off my trail in case there were more of them, so I began shifting his body to take on my old form.

I knelt back down to the floor as Max’s good looks and health quickly receded from him like a desert storm over a savannah. Never losing the smile on his face, his body deflated, years of exercise and healthy eating replaced with the look of someone fed on nothing but an IV tube. His skin color shifted to a pallid white as his healthy golden locks of hair thinned and shrank before disappearing completely. His face hollowed and his boyish good looks and charm faded.

When I finished, I stared down at the man before me and was horrified. It looked like staring down at a corpse.

I took a deep breath. I tore off my medical gown, slightly ripping it, and got to cleaning myself off in the kitchen sink, too terrified to waste time going upstairs and cleaning myself in Max's bathroom.

Once I was clean enough, I moved Max behind the counter and stripped him of his polo and thong, taking time to undo the many strings of his underwear and weirded out by the sensation of gripping what had once been my balls, now on another body.

I put the clothes down in a pile and did my best to slide Max into the medical gown, careful not to rip it any further, to prevent him from being completely nude in the woods. Once that was finished I noticed the two thick gold rings on his now too skinny fingers. I easily slid them off and applied them to my hand, careful not to put the wrong ring on the wrong finger.

Then I put on his polo shirt, soft against my hairy chest, and then stuffed my new dick and balls into the silk thong. Despite the weight of my heavy balls, the thong was a smooth fit and accentuated them perfectly.

Firmly taking Max’s place in appearance I noticed the blinds on his kitchen door and shut them, casting the kitchen in darkness, before I got to work taking his memories. I spent the next 45 minutes soaking up as much information as I could, anything that would convince people, but especially Nate, that I was Max and always had been.

When I was satisfied, I wiped my old body's mind clean and replaced them with only my memories of waking up and wandering in the woods. I made sure to withhold any memories of finding and going inside Max's home, leaving him a nearly blank slate.

Then, still unsure, but willing to test the extent of my power I willed the ex-Max to enter a dream-like state where he would not remember anything for the next hour and commanded him to find a new shelter, far from here.

His eyes snapped opened and a part of me was afraid I fucked up and would be conscious, but he calmly ignored me, pulling himself off the kitchen floor and stumbling to the door. He pushed his way outside and quickly disappeared into the woods, letting me breathe a sigh of relief.

Satisfied, I took Max’s phone and sitting in his living room scanned the news for any word of what happened in the forest.

I did that for a few minutes and found nothing when a car parked in the driveway. It was only then that I remembered that Max had promised to make barbecued ribs for Nate and that I had devoured it only an hour before. I cursed myself and ran to the front door. When Nate let himself inside, I embraced him in a bearhug, kissing the back of his neck.

“And hello to you too,” Nate said with a laugh.

Feeling him take a step towards the living room and beyond that the kitchen, I spun him around and met my soft lips against his.

His shoulders relaxed, but he still kept moving to the kitchen, so I went further, slipping my tongue inside his mouth, accidentally cutting it against his teeth. From Max, I knew that he had been looking forward to those ribs for a while. I had to distract him with something else to keep him from asking questions.

As I kissed him, I placed my hand on his lower back the way he liked and succeeded in leading him out of the doorway and up to several of the stairs.

Nate dropped his briefcase on the stairs, letting it tumble to the bottom when he pulled away for a moment.

“Wait, don’t you have a meal waiting for me?” Nate asked, confused, looking behind him. I grabbed him by the chin and gave him a big smile.

“Come upstairs and I’ll make a meal out of your ass,” I said, playfully, remembering how much Nate loved getting his ass eaten.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” Nate said, kissing me sweetly on the cheek before we went up the stairs together, the sound of military helicopters gathering in the distance.

#body swap #alien #shapesifting #brainwipe #male transformation #maletf

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Ranking : Martin Scorsese (1942-present)

Of all the places in the world that seem to be hubs for creative energy, New York stands high on my personal list of favorites, and when it comes to iconic New York filmmakers, there aren’t many that can hold a candle to the prolific career of Martin Scorsese. His appreciation for films, art and music blasts off the screen with the same energy as his kinetic cinematography and vibrant editing. Once he established himself as a mainstay in the industry, his list of collaborators evolved into a who’s who of acting legends, both old and new. His career spans just over 50 years, and even his latest film (his 25th in his catalog) went head to head with other contenders for the top awards of the year.

To put it bluntly, there is Martin Scorsese, and then there is a long list of imitators and those influenced by his genius. To rank his films is a true test of logic, patience and decision making, but after a few weeks of catching the 7 or so films I had yet to see, I think I can stand behind this list as my definitive ranking (from least to most favorite) of a director I hold in the highest regard.

25. Gangs of New York (2002) An honest attempt at an epic flick, but at the heart of the matter, I simply don’t care about either side in the battle Scorsese presents us. Set in New York City in the mid 19th Century during the Civil War, we are thrown into a generational battle where the two key figures have different goals... Bill the Butcher stands as antagonist in his fight to maintain power and control, while Amsterdam is our protagonist charged with a mission of revenge. In the end, neither side ends up mattering, very much like my personal experience with this all flourish, no foundation exercise in style.

24. Bringing Out the Dead (1999) Nicolas Cage was gearing up for the run that most people know him for now during the release of Bringing Out the Dead : he was coming off of Golden Globe and Academy Award wins for Leaving Las Vegas, but was quickly leaning towards films of a more exploitation-based style. This film marked a refinement of his wild-man persona, while simultaneously being one of the last high-level actor/director combinations he would be involved in before his mad dash to accept every film and avoid bankruptcy. New York is captured in a mid-transition point between the darkness of the 1970s and 1980s versus the Disney aesthetic of the new millennium, and while heavy on the entertainment factor (as well as visually striking), there is ultimately not enough on this plate to push it higher up the list.

23. The Color of Money (1986) If you had to do a quick gander at the Scorsese list and pick the film that, on paper, screams Hollywood, it’d be hard to argue against The Color of Money taking that top spot. A soft sequel to The Hustler, Scorsese picks up the Fast Eddie story in the 1980s (an era that oozes out of each and every frame of this film), and yet, despite this legendary move, the film is ultimately the Tom Cruise show. Scorsese’s trademark dollying and trucking camera shots work beautifully in the context of this film, but in a story that shines bright, the star of Cruise ultimately outshines all that remains.

22. Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974) After a few exploitation-based projects, it seemed that Martin Scorsese wanted to provide a slightly different change in perspective, albeit one that still dwells in the darker corners of life. Rather than deal with the streets of New York or crime, Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore is a study on broken homes, single parenthood and domestic violence that oscillates between the view of the titular Alice and her young son. Harvey Keitel gives another strong performance as a Scorsese regular, while Ellen Burstyn shines in a transitional role towards more mature performances. Seeing Scorsese camera movements coopted into a more down to Earth story was refreshing.

21. The Departed (2006) Many people would have assumed that The Departed would be higher on a list of Scorsese films based solely on the cast... pairing Leonardo DiCaprio opposite Matt Damon in a tension-filled triangle with Jack Nicholson is a bold combination in its own right, but surrounding this nucleus with Martin Sheen, Mark Wahlberg, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Corrigan, Anthony Anderson and supporting actors of that ilk creates a rich showcase of talent. Stylistically, everything you need is there too, as Scorsese proved time and again that films of this nature were his wheelhouse. That being said, the story itself, an adaptation of the 2002 Hong Kong thriller Infernal Affairs, takes a few liberties in its adaptation that ultimately are to the detriment of the narrative. Kudos to Scorsese for putting this one together, and too bad for him that the choices of William Monahan knocked what could have been a mega-classic way down the list.

20. New York, New York (1977) New York, New York is one of the most unique offerings from the Scorsese canon for a number of reasons. Of all his films, this one is probably the one that can be considered a “style exercise” more than the rest, as it oscillates between obvious sets and real locations before blurring the lines between the two. Long gaps of time are given to fully executed musical numbers (a must when a talent like Liza Minnelli is involved), and traditional methods of songwriting and performance are given their due respect. The exercise portion, however, comes in the newer acting styles that are infused into the old school structure... improvisation and aggressive physicality are used to put a deeper, disturbing red tint on an era often presented through a rose-colored lens. While interesting at times, the nearly three hour run time of the film begins to wear on the limits of the style, which ultimate leaves the film feeling more like a personal indulgence than a statement on changing times. For the iconic title track alone (and the buildup to its release), this film is worth seeing, but in terms of its placement in the realm of other Scorsese films, it may have to grow on me a while to find a higher placement on the list.

19. Boxcar Bertha (1972) Originally, this film was much lower on the list, largely due to its chronological placement between Who’s That Knocking at My Door and Mean Streets seeming odd to me. Upon revisitation, however, it stands clear and present that this film served as an exercise in the process of directing and organizing a shoot. With its period-specific placement, ensemble cast and action sequences, it was bound to be compared to (and ultimately overshadowed by) the formidable Bonnie and Clyde, but Boxcar Bertha has a few key moments in it (including a stellar final action sequence) that places it near the middle of the Scorsese canon, even with it being his second film.

18. Who's That Knocking at My Door? (1967) For all of the refinement that Scorsese found in his second film, his debut film, the stunning Who’s That Knocking at My Door?, stands as testament to the fact that Scorsese brought his many gifts to the table from day one. What started as a student graduate film grew into a speculative project, only to find 25th hour funding that allowed it a festival run and a proper release. The film took many years to complete and release, to the point that keen viewers will notice Harvey Keitel’s boyish, soft good looks morph into the sharper, edgier intense profile we came to recognize in Mean Streets and the films that followed. The energetic cinematography, respect of film as a medium, stellar music choices, defiance of youth, toxic masculinity and realistic look at relationships are all here, making this debut a hidden gem in the Scorsese canon.

17. The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) Seeing Scorsese retread old stylistic ground (as opposed to infusing his style into newer projects) is an interesting take, and for what my opinion is worth, The Wolf of Wall Street feels like Goodfellas for white collar criminals. In theory (and, in some aspects of the film, in reality), the experiment does work, but ultimately, this film finds its placement in the middle realms simply because we are given infinite sizzle off of what amounts to a very thin steak. Goodfellas works because it is carried by the weight of omerta, but The Wolf of Wall Street focuses on a culture where status comes from self-appointed importance, which ultimately makes for an attempted redemption story for despicable people.

16. The Irishman (2019) Seeing actors the stature of Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci and Al Pacino combine forces for a film is always a major event, but until 2019, those combinations have been limited to duos. When Netflix announced its intention to release The Irishman in 2019, people were not only intrigued on Scorsese’s take on the Jimmy Hoffa story, but seeing De Niro, Pesci and Pacino in the same film for the first time. For what it was worth, the trio lived up to all expectations, with the only bittersweet criticism being wishes that the three could have found a way to work together prior to the twilight of their careers. The historical drama is high quality, with Hoffa’s larger than life persona captured perfectly by Pacino, and bolstered by the dramatic chops brought to the table by De Niro and Pesci. The film is a tad on the long side, and the de-aging process tips into the realm of the uncanny valley due to the older actors’ physicality, but for a 25th film 52 years into an illustrious career, The Irishman must be recognized for the triumph that it is.

15. The Aviator (2004) Much like The Wolf of Wall Street, I avoided The Aviator for years simply because I have no interest or fascination with Howard Hughes. I was very much aware of his financial stature, his innovations as an aviator, his rocky love life and his personal demons that plagued him, but for my money’s worth, I was fine without seeing it presented on the big screen. In an effort to cover all the bases for a director I hold in high esteem, however, I made the decision to finally check out The Aviator, and for every element of the film I previously had no interest in, an element was presented that won me over. Cate Blanchett and Adam Dunn put on two of the strongest performances in the entire realm of Scorsese films, and the XF-11 crash sequence is possibly one of the grandest and well executed in any Scorsese film. Leave it to Martin Scorsese to make a powerful film about an individual I care nothing about and nearly crack the top ten with that effort.

14. Hugo (2011) Up to the point of watching Hugo, I knew nothing about it. About halfway through Hugo, I had to stop and look up how the film was received, as it was simply stunning, and sure enough, it was a monster in terms of award nominations and wins. I never would have pegged Scorsese as the type to direct a kid’s film, but in all honesty, that ‘kid’s film’ title is used as a façade for a love letter to film in general, and the groundbreaking work of Georges Méliès specifically. The look of the film is otherworldly, the energy is light, kinetic and infectious, and even a mostly slapstick performance by Sacha Baron Cohen yields surprising emotional depth when given the opportunity to do so. While just missing the top ten, Hugo easily stands as the number one surprise on this list in terms of pre-viewing expectations (of which there where none) versus post-viewing thoughts (of which there are many). Knowing that Hugo exists lets me know that one day, if I have children, and they want to know why I love film so much, I will have a film on the level of Cinema Paradiso to share with them and (hopefully) help foster a love of film they can call their own.

13. Casino (1995) For a time, this film stood as the last work containing the vibrant combination of Martin Scorsese, Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, a trio of high energy creatives known for putting their all into their projects. Casino felt like a spiritual successor to Goodfellas, focusing on a lavish but secretive lifestyle with high stakes and even higher consequences. An instantly iconic movie, Casino felt like the end of an era in regards to gangster fare for Scorsese, opting instead for more challenging projects, adaptations of other books and films, or personal passion projects. It would be nearly 25 years later before Scorsese would touch similar subject matter or work with these actors again, but had Casino been the last of Scorsese’s so-called “gangster” films, I believe the world would have been happy with that.

12. Kundun (1997) To make one religious-based film in a career is a bold move to some, but I am hard-pressed to think of any director that made films on two different religions who didn’t explicitly make religious films. With that in mind, it is incredibly impressive that Martin Scorsese was able to make a film as moving and objective as Kundun after making such a bold take on religion as The Last Temptation of Christ. The film centers around the discovery, growth and eventual escape to India in light of growing aggression from China. In all honesty, I had my doubts as to whether or not the Scorsese style would work for this story, especially in light of the lack of cooperation from Tibet and China, but somehow, Scorsese’s amazing signature camerawork captures the unique spirit and essence surrounding the Dalai Lama. I’d heard of this film for years, but never got around to it until it was time to make this list, but I will almost certainly try to find a copy to own in the near future.

11. The King of Comedy (1982) What an odd left turn in regards of career trajectory for both Scorsese and De Niro. With three collaborations already under their belt (not to mention The Godfather II already being a well-established classic), it would have been easy to imagine the duo putting another notch on the gangster film genre belt. What we are given, however, is the yang to the yin of Taxi Driver : our protagonist is a statement on personal conviction and the trappings of instant stardom, our antagonist is a statement on star fascination and the high costs of celebrity, and our satellite characters directly reflect the toxicity certain fandoms can be capable of. Scorsese sets aside his normal flourish and camera moves for a mixing of film and video mediums, as well as a completely new sense of freedom in regards to the highly improvised nature of the film. Its influence on recent successful films like Joker is undeniable, but I’d argue that Joker lacks the heart, sincerity and realistic bite present in The King of Comedy.

10. After Hours (1985) Of all the “new to me” Scorsese flicks I finally viewed while preparing this list, After Hours stands as my favorite discovery of the bunch. I was marginally familiar with the film, both from my younger days in video stores and from friend recommendations, but for some reason, when Scorsese time arrived, After Hours seemed to never be on the docket. That oversight, however, will now be a thing of the past. This film feels like a personal challenge to Woody Allen in regards to how one should make a New York-based romantic comedy, and I’d be hard pressed to share any shortcomings or failures present in this comedic masterpiece. One of the few films that can be both a product of its era and a timeless classic, and one that should be much more recognized in the Scorsese canon.

9. Shutter Island (2010) Me hesitating or not getting around to Scorsese films seems to be a bit of a common theme here, but there was literally no excuse for me to take this long to get around to Shutter Island. Despite knowing the premise of the story (and even having the ending somewhat spoiled for me), I still found the impact of the final moments just as powerful as I imagine I would have going into this film blind. Some people will likely argue this statement, but in my opinion, this was the best Leonardo DiCaprio performance captured by Martin Scorsese. The asylum setting is wonderfully bleak, and the psychological horrors it infers create a vibrant playground for some of the most stunning visual symbolism that Scorsese has ever committed to film. Don’t be like me if you’ve not gotten around to Shutter Island yet, because it’s a thrill ride more than worth the price of admission, and a rewarding repeat viewer.

8. Mean Streets (1973) Mean Streets may have been Martin Scorsese’s third film, but for many fans, it was the first true indicator of the brilliance that was to come. A true New York film through and through, it not only presented fans with a stronger Harvey Keitel performance than Who’s That Knocking at My Door?, but it introduced the world to the palatable tandem of Scorsese and De Niro that would go on to lead to years and years of iconic performances. The use of altering aspect ratios is something that I wish Scorsese would have continued to use more often, but in all honesty, Mean Streets has style to spare. This the film that I love to recommend when people start ranting and raving about Goodfellas, and more often than not, it impresses those unfamiliar with it just as much.

7. The Age of Innocence (1993) Martin Scorsese’s love of film is widely known and well documented, but The Age of Innocence goes an additional step further by displaying Scorsese’s love of art. The film also is one of the most touching displays of unrequited love that Scorsese has committed to film, a slight alteration from his normal infusion of love stories trying to sustain in the surrounding chaos of gangs, crime, religion and so on. Daniel Day-Lewis, Michelle Pfeiffer and Winona Ryder all give standout performances in this masterfully directed film. If Gangs of New York was meant to be the definitive old school New York film in the Scorsese canon, then The Age of Innocence is the unintended definitive New York film from Scorsese, with some European touches thrown in for good measure.

6. Cape Fear (1991) Of the many, many iconic performances that Robert De Niro has given Martin Scorsese, I’d be hard pressed not to put his characterization of Max Cady at the top by a clear margin. Cape Fear was already a classic film adaptation of The Executioners when it was first released in 1957, but De Niro pulled two fast ones with his update : in terms of casting, especially with the aforementioned De Niro, Scorsese brought the harrowing story into a much darker, recent world, therefore increasing the tension by upping the ante for violent retribution, while at the same time, paying direct homage to the original by having Elmer Bernstein adapt the original Bernard Herrmann score. Juliette Lewis also provided a breakout performance in this modern day classic, and possibly the film that provided the most tense debate in terms of placement, as we will get into with the next film.

5. Silence (2016) Despite being one of the most recent Martin Scorsese films, this one’s limited release meant that I missed it during its initial run, and the lack of streaming service placement essentially erased it from my memory. I was certainly intrigued about watching it for this list, and it ended up being the last film viewed. Going into it, it felt like a sort of religious take on Saving Private Ryan, but it didn’t take long for the film to start dealing out much heavier cards in terms of faith, belief systems and cross-cultural contamination. The Last Temptation of Christ showed that Scorsese could find nuance and secular drama from a holy tale, and Kundun showed that he could make a religious icon a relatable human figure struggling to grasp his divine appointment. Silence is the work of a wise, steady hand, however, like some sort of cinematic parable or testament to faith in the face of crippling doubt and danger. Scorsese is certainly still moved by the idea of faith, and he uses Andrew Garfield to display this in some of the most powerful moments that he has ever created or captured for his films. For those who have not seem the film, this placement may feel a bit high, but I would not be surprised if, given time and proper amounts of reflection, it makes its way higher.

4. Raging Bull (1980) The placement of Raging Bull and Cape Fear was the biggest hurdle I was forced to overcome in the creation of this list. Robert De Niro is powerfully captivating in both films, though I would personally give his performance as Max Cady the nod over his embodiment of Jake LaMotta, but when it comes down to the brass tacks of it all, Raging Bull is ultimately the better of the two films. The raw, black and white look of LaMotta’s life already provides a gritty, unflattering portrait of a savage and uncouth man looking for beauty in the world, but that beauty he searches for appears in the boxing sequences with no apologies. The airy look, mainly caught by dynamic slow motion photography, works in tandem with the abrasive first-person views of the combatants, not to mention the direct nature of the combat itself as the viewer is often placed directly in the line of fire. The involvement of the real LaMotta within the film provides a nice button to the superb acting put on display by De Niro, Joe Pesci, Cathy Moriarty and the numerous actors used to portray the opponents of LaMotta.

3. The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) Call it a trope if you like, but it feels like every great (or aspiring) director has a film in them that is driven by religion in some capacity. The Last Temptation of Christ is unique in this sense because it takes the story of the accusations, betrayal, trial and eventual crucifixion of Jesus and turns it into a deeply faith-based suspense thriller. Many of the familiar beats we know from the Bible are re-contextualized as visions, mystic tests of faith, carnal desires driven by lust, and nihilistic views infringing upon deep indoctrination. Willem Dafoe plays a Jesus that is bitter in his acceptance of his fate, Harvey Keitel plays a wonderfully opportunistic Judas, and Barbara Hershey plays a very modernized version of a woman forced to use her body for survival that is suddenly trapped between necessity and passion. The film hinges on the verge of becoming a soap opera without falling into the trappings that come with such high drama, and the walkup to the film’s amazing final sequence puts you in the emotional passenger's seat while Jesus takes the wheel and steers directly into his fate. A dramatically powerful yet brutally sincere take on an iconic, revered and sensitive subject matter.

2. Goodfellas (1990) Is there any original praise left to bestow upon this movie? To focus on the imperfections of this film is an act of futility, as they are mostly non-existent. Some of Martin Scorsese’s best examples of his iconic camera movement, editing techniques, still frames, writing gleaned from personal experience, soundtrack use, loose historical connections and dark humor are found within the confines of Goodfellas. If you’ve seen in actor in any television show or film that had any connection to the mob prior to Goodfellas or since, it is more than likely that that actor was in Goodfellas, even if only briefly. Using Henry Hill as both an outsider and insider perspective is a brilliant narrative stroke, as he can get close to the top, but can never have it all, making him essentially a fly on the wall bursting with charisma and personality. They highs are as epic as the lows are tragic, and for most people, it is the first film that comes to mind when the name Martin Scorsese is mentioned. This could have very easily been the number one film on my list, but anyone who has been visiting this blog with a keen eye for detail probably figured out my favorite Scorsese film the first time they visited the DOOMonFILM blog.

1. Taxi Driver (1976) Since the day that I started this film blog, there has been one image at the top of the page : Travis Bickle in the porn theater (with his face replaced by my logo) from the iconic Taxi Driver. There’s not a single element that I can put my finger on for this film, but there are certainly a number of elements that do speak to me : the isolation that Travis faces, the journal-like narration that drives the story forward, the hypnotic nature of both Bernard Herrmann score and the repetitive taxi cab shots and the vivid camera movements are all burnt firmly into my brain. Everyone that makes up the main cast for this film kills in their performance, and the ending of the film is not only a brutal one, but an ironic one in regards to where Travis lands in the eyes of those who make up the world of the film. Martin Scorsese has made more amazing films than some directors have made, period (amazing or otherwise), but for my money’s worth, none of them are as powerful or well put together as Taxi Driver.

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

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All the World’s Sadness

Category: Hurt and Comfort

Fandom: Atlantis- The Lost Empire

Characters: Kida, Milo

Hi, guys! Another piece I worked on for applying to the Shepherd’s Journal Zine that I thought I’d share :) One more to go and I’ll have enough for the application TT.TT

Kida hated the throne room. Kida was the queen of Atlantis; she ought to take honor in the throne that symbolized her royal blood and spiritual purity. The throne room was the culmination of generations of rulers, principles, laws, religion, and dignity; it wasn’t pompous or pretentious, but instead embodied the deep connection to the natural and spiritual worlds vital to the Atlantean culture.

Behind the crescent-shaped, blanket-draped, wooden throne sat a massive stone depiction of an Atlantean soldier. The head had been detached from the body, representing not only the self-sacrifice of defenders of their homeland and the dangers of a violent, militaristic state. Beyond the throne sprawled a still, clear pond smothered in floating lilies and inlaid with the stepping stones that patterned a swirling spiritual symbol. Buried underground lay the cavern where her ancestors had filled Kida to the brim with the power to face the oncoming catastrophe of the erupting volcano. However, now it again remained hidden, contained beneath that quiet little pond. Vegetation sprouted around the room’s edges, filling the air with a freshness, and moss coated the ornate Greek-style columns supporting the roof of the building.

Indeed, by all rights, it was a magnificent and regal throne room… But Kida still hated it, at least on that day- the anniversary of her dear father’s death.

Kida squirmed uncomfortable against the blankets; their once soft, embracing cloth now felt like coarse sandpaper against her bare back, making the skin burn and itch. She tried to keep her twitching writhes to a minimum, not wishing to arouse her husband’s suspicions. Milo sat casually in the newly-constructed twin to the ancient throne, attending to the last remaining bit of subjects who’d come to counsel with the pair of royals.

Kida’s attention had been nonexistent since she had awoken that morning; everyone noticed her lapse in clear guidance and focus, especially Milo. He’d naturally assumed the more dominant role that day, falling seamlessly into the caring and patient benefactor of the common people. One could almost call it an insult, the way he nonchalantly perched on the edge of the throne, elbows resting on his knees in a relaxed posture. Yet, no one would question him for the rapt attention he afforded each and every person, and the understanding smiles that graced his boyish bespectacled face. Despite everything, a small smile appeared on Kida’s lips as she observed him speaking calmly with a disgruntled fisherman who was commissioning for repairs to the docks.

“Your request sounds very reasonable,” Milo announced as he straightened up and rolled his shoulders. “We’ll get right on that. I want a list of contractors drawn up sometime tomorrow, at the earliest available opportunity,” he noted to the royal scribe, who took a record of all the day’s decisions for the appropriate administrative staff to handle later. The fisherman jumped forward to shake Milo’s hand ecstatically, and the brunette just grinned and returned the Atlantean’s zeal with equal fervor. It was magical, how effortlessly Milo had earned the trust and respect of her people. Well, thinking back, perhaps it really wasn’t magical at all.

“Unnnnnnngh!” Milo exclaimed as soon as the fisherman, the last caller of the day, exited the spacious room. The man stretched his arms above his head, prompting a series of pops from his stiff joints. “Whew! What a day,” he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. Kida groaned, the ache in her bones and burning skin growing unbearable, and Milo side-eyed her worriedly. “Kida? Are you all right?” The queen refrained from answering in favor of glancing around the room. The staff had slipped into the royal compound’s bowels, leaving the husband and wife to do as they pleased. Now that her royal obligations had reached their limit, Kida eagerly jumped off from the throne, stumbling over her feet in the process and making her ankle bracelets clang together.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s all this?” Milo cried as she angrily ripped the clinging blankets from her person. As he hopped up to grab her lightly by the upper arms, she immediately melted into his lean frame, pouting dourly. Apparently, Milo hadn’t realized what day it was; nonetheless, he enveloped her in a crushing embrace, squishing her body against his. As Kida nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, Milo pressed his cheek tightly against the side of her head. He then patiently waited for her to voice her melancholy.

“I don’t want to be in here,” she huffed bluntly. She felt Milo’s facial muscles contract as his eyebrows shot up to the roots of his hair. She said that, but now Kida didn’t want to move; comfort and warmth poured off Milo’s form, and she basked in them readily. She drank in his scent like parchment and rain and the faint hint of earth, feeling calm slowly ooze into her being. After a few more minutes, with Milo waiting ever-so-tolerantly, she murmured, “This is the place my father perished. It sickens me.”

Silence descended. Kida’s face contorted slightly in confusion at the lack of Milo’s response, but then she felt the uncomfortable shift of his body. He coughed awkwardly and shifted his shoulders as he played with the dark blue cloth loosely wrapped over his thin frame.

“I, er… Yeah, that’ll do it,” Milo chuckled in discombobulation. Despite herself, a teensy smile curled up the ends of Kida’s lips. Her frazzled husband could be so adorable sometimes. Milo coughed once more as he struggled to compose himself and offer proper consolation. “I, er… Darn it, Milo, you should be ashamed of yourself… O-oh, uh, right, you’re sad, um, and I’m supposed to make you feel better, ummm… I love you?” Kida snorted in laughter and leaned up to look him in the face. His golden-brown eyebrows were tightly knit together above the wireframes of his glasses. Milo stared at her, resembling a puppy puzzled by its owner’s action. Perhaps it wasn’t the most eloquent comfort, but Kida felt reassured nonetheless. She put a hand on Milo’s cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I love you too, Milo. I feel better.”

“Really?” he blurted, eyes blown wide. Kida chuckled in amusement, her other hand sliding down the length of his arm to link their hands and entwine their fingers. Milo gave her that lopsided smile that sent warm bubbles coursing through her body anytime she was graced with its appearance. Without saying another word, Milo wrapped his free arm around her to pull her in for another soft embrace, peppering kisses into her long, moon-white hair. “I wish he were here,” he admitted against her scalp. “He should’ve been allowed to see what a splendid queen you are…” Kida exhaled deeply and melted languidly against his frame, tracing his star-patterned tattoo’s jagged lines.

“Mhmm… I wish he would have been able to see what a remarkable king you are,” she countered. She couldn’t see Milo’s face, but she could tell he was flushing from the intense spike of heat that rolled off his body in a sudden wave. He began stuttering nervous refusals under his breath, so Kida continued, “You are a wonderful king! My people- our people- respect you immensely.” Her fingers walked a path over his shoulder and up his neck. When she reached his jaw, she flattened her palm against his cheek. She rolled her head over his shoulder to smirk at him, turning his face down to her as she did so. “I certainly could not hope to rule without such a kind and considerate man by my side.”

“Well,” he considered suddenly, rolling his eyes up in pseudo-thoughtfulness. Kida snickered at his abrupt shift to a playful mood. In a second, he grinned widely and dropped down to press a sweet little kiss to the tip of her nose. “I certainly couldn’t hope to rule without such a strong, sophisticated woman by my side,” he contradicted coltishly. His tone was jesting, but seriousness swam in the sparkling pools of his eyes. Smiling lovingly, Kida stroked the contour of his jawline continuously as he gazed adoringly down into her sea-blue eyes. “At any rate, it’s a good thing he can see how well we’re doing, anyway.” It was Kida’s turn to be confused, and she quirked an eyebrow vexedly. Grinning, Milo jabbed his index finger towards the ceiling.

Kida immediately understood.

“Mhmm… Yes, you are right, Milo.” Above the barrier of the worn stone roof, her ancestors’ stone carvings orbited the mighty hidden city. Their mighty visages thrummed with the sparkling energy of life and spirit and magic; Kida knew her father’s soul coursed within those magical veins. She also knew that his wizened old eyes, with sight returned in his eternal afterlife, gazed upon her with all measures of fondness and pride. Kida’s eyes disintegrated the ceiling’s dark surface to envision his stone carving looking down upon her, and she smiled. “Yes, you’re right,” she repeated softly and snuggled into her husband’s body. “I know he can see how beautiful our amazing city has continued to become.”

Sadly, her father was gone, and nothing could ever completely fill the void left behind in Kida’s heart. Still, all was not lost- she had a kingdom that uplifted her, and a loving husband who thought her the world. With so much love and support holding her up, Kida could face all the world’s sadness without question.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#milo x kida #kida x milo #atlantis #atlantis the lost empire #atlantis: the lost empire

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guccybangtan · 4 years

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The Most Dangerous Game - Park JinYoung

pairing: jinyoung x reader Word Count:3497 Warnings: kind of a crack fic, smut, death/murder; let me know if smths missing a/n: req by @screwyou2020 hope this is kind of what you were looking for! I tweaked the original ending to leave it open for a part two! This was my first time writing smut I think so be nice ^.^

let me now what you think!

The club was a normal spot for you and your friends to hit on Friday nights. The seven of you would get all dolled up at one of your places and then go get hammered off of cheap drinks. Some of the times you could find men that were willing to buy you the bottles of Rosé and Henessy. Tonight, you were the one lucky enough to find the man. His name was Jinyoung. He was at the bar with his friends as well, and they were kind enough to invite you and your friends to their booth in the back VIP section of the club. They all seemed to be well mannered enough.

Time began to fly by quicker and quicker as you all had the time of your lives. The boys’ energy was enough to keep you and your friends on the same level. Dancing with Jinyoung on its own was an experience. Boy did this man know how to move his body. It was mesmerizing. He was as fluid as the liquid in your glass.

Not only were his looks captivating, but he had the body of adonis. He could have been a marble sculpture.

The two of you talked briefly between your drink refills and he told you that him and his friends ran one of the most booming companies in Seoul, grossing over 40 billion won in profit a year.

You were hanging with some big dogs that night.

Soon enough, as the clock neared two in the morning, the bar rang the bell for last call. Dancing was able to continue until four, but without the booze it wasn’t as fun. Even though you didn’t necessarily want to leave Jinyoung, you and your girlfriends had decided to call it a night, and make the journey back home.

Jinyoung and his friends walked with you all outside.

“Thank you for being so courteous tonight,’’ you told Jinyoung, “I don't think we’ve had that much fun here since they opened.’’

“It was my pleasure.’’ He responded, pulling you to a halt, “We’ll have to meet up again soon.’’

The smirk that crossed his face could almost be synonymous to sinister. “It seems as if our friends get along quite well also.’’

You glanced to where the five of your friends stood. They were all giggling and practically drooling over the other six boys.

“It does seem that way.’’ You spoke. The silence that grew between the two of you wasn’t uncomfortable. Jinyoung was naturally charismatic, oozing confidence. This was enough to keep things comfortable.

It was so comfortable that when Jinyoung pulled you into his arms and asked you and your friends to accompany them back to the hotel they were staying at all you could do was squeak out a yes.

Dancing with Jinyoung was an entirely different ball game than being pressed into his embrace.

One of Jinyoung’s friends, whom you learned was Jaebum, was quick to call a car to escort you all to their place.

You continued to talk to Jinyoung while you waited for the car to arrive. You let him know that you were studying at the University of Seoul and you were mom to a maltese puppy.

You were quick to learn something else about Jinyoung as well. He liked physical contact. From the moment he pulled you into him he hadn’t released you and continued to hold you while you were talking.

Even when the car had finally pulled up, his hand was there on your hip to guide you into the seat and once you were settled, he placed it over your shoulders, leaning down as you continued to converse.

The ride to the hotel was short, and the way up to their room seemed even shorter. By the time you got to the room, which happened to be a penthouse suite on the top floor, most everyone seemed to be tired, and ready for bed. Your friends had all paired up with one of the boys, but what would you have expected different? You opted to sleep with Jinyoung in his room, but something told you that you would be doing anything but.

As soon as the door was shut it was lips and teeth clashing, both of you wanting to assert dominance over the other. You were practically tripping over each other to make it to the bed where you immediately pushed Jinyoung down and straddled his thighs.

Taking a moment to breathe in the situation, you realized how truly beautiful Jinyoung was. Sure, he had an amazing body, and an ultra charming personality, but his sweet boyish looks entrapped any girl that had yet to fall for him. He looked like the multi-billion dollar man he was but there was also an innocence captured in the softness of his brown irises.

Leaning down once more you captured his lips in a gentle kiss, lacing one of your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck while the other rested firmly against his jaw. His hands found purchase on the soft expanse of your hips, kneading the flesh that rested underneath the lace of your skimpy dress. One of his hands found its way to the zipper of your dress and in one swift movement it was falling from your body.

Sliding off of Jinyoung, you let the black fabric pool at your feet, leaving you in a black lace bra and matching panties. While this whole thing wasn’t planned, it seemed as if the universe was aligning for you.

“Y’know, while I love all this attention, it’s awfully unfair that you’re still fully dressed,’’ You whined, pulling at the button down spread over Jinyoung’s broad shoulders.

“Patience, my sweet girl, is a virtue. A virtue you might find coming in handy soon.’’ Jinyoung laughed, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

As he neared the bottom, he stood up, once again towering over your form. Sliding the shirt off of his shoulders, he took a step toward you.

“I think you know where this is headed.’’ He said, thumb running across your bottom lip.

You nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Good girls get rewarded, but bad girls get punished. Now, why don’t you show me how good of a girl you are?” Jinyoung asked, words punctuated by the sound of his belt unbuckling.

You sank to your knees, hands taking the place of Jinyoungs. You finished unbuttoning his pants, taking a moment to run your hand over the prominent bulge forming in his underwear.

Pulling his pants down far enough to free his throbbing member, you gave a few experimental licks to his red tip. Glancing up at him, his brown eyes were now dark with lust. Sliding his pants the rest of the way down to his ankles, you licked a thick strip up the bottom of his member, right along the throbbing vein, taking his tip into your mouth and sucking. You began to bob your head, pumping what didn’t fit in your mouth with your hand. Groans began to fall from Jinyoung's lips, and his hips began to move, almost of their own accord. It wasn’t long until you felt the tip of his cock in the back of your throat.

“Look at you Y/N,” Jinyoung panted, “you take my cock so well.”

Thrusting harshly into your throat, you did your best to relax your jaw and let the man do what he wanted. You wanted nothing but to please Jinyoung.

It wasn’t long before your nails were digging into his thighs, tears streaming down your face, as you began to choke for oxygen.

“Fuck, I’m close,’’ Jinyoung spoke, pulling himself out of your mouth. “If I come, it’ll be inside you.’’

Jinyoung pulled you up into a kiss, this one rougher than any of the others before it.

“You’re being such a good girl for me Y/N, I think it's time you get some of your reward.’’

Lifting you up, Jinyoung moved back toward the bed, setting you in the center of it.

“Tell me, Y/N. When was the last time a real man touched you like this?” Jinyoung inquired.

You stuttered, shaking your head. All the sex you’ve had previously were shitty drunk flings, honestly much like this. Only they were with the shitty men from the bar and not a billionaire.

“That’s what I thought.’’ He hummed, ripping your panties off.

“I’m gonna eat you out until you can’t remember your name, then I’m gonna fuck you so good all you’ll remember is mine.’’

Let it be known that Jinyoung is a man of his word. He pulled your legs apart, diving right into your clit and sucking. He licked and nipped at your clit, jolts of pleasure already spreading through your tummy. He continued to mouth at your dripping pussy, pushing his tongue deep into your slit. Jinyoung spread your legs further apart, pushing his face deeper into your wetness. Moving his attention back to your clit, he was quick to shove two fingers inside of you.

“Oh, Jinyoung!” You moaned, lacing your fingers back into his hair.

You felt the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten, but this time, it was almost different. It felt more powerful. Jinyoung continued his ministrations, bringing you to your high almost instantly.

“Fuck,’’ you sighed as he removed his fingers from you.

“I hope you can last another orgasm, baby, because I promised to fuck you good.’’ Jinyoung said, climbing onto the bed over you.

“If your mouth is that good I can’t wait to see what that dick does.’’ You giggled.

“Just you wait.’’ He smirked.

Jinyoung lined his tip up with your slit, and began to push in.

He was bigger than most men you’d been with, so the burn you felt from the stretch of his cock was more than what you were used to.

Jinyoung gave you a few seconds to adjust.

“You can move now,’’ You whimpered.

Slowly, Jinyoung pulled his cock almost all the way out, and thrust back into you harshly.

“Oh god.’’ You moaned, gripping his shoulders.

Jinyoung set a quick pace, one that was pleasurable for both of you.

“Fuck me harder.’’ You moaned.

“Just remember you asked for it.” Jinyoung responded as he pulled out.

“What the-’’ you started.

Jinyoung flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you up so your knees were under you, and he resheathed himself inside of you. He began to piston himself in and out of your pussy, the only sounds in the room now the skin on skin contact from his hips slapping your ass.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Jinyoung pulled you up so your back was flush with his chest. He kneaded the soft flesh of your breast as he began to suck the skin of your neck, littering it with red and purple marks.

“Are you close?” He grunted.

All you could do was nod. The feeling of Jinyoung’s cock buried deep within your walls was amazing.

Reaching down to rub your clit, you pushed yourself over the edge, walls clamping onto Jinyoung’s cock.

Jinyoung soon reached his high as well and you milked him for all he was worth, feeling his seed deep inside of yourself.

He was gentle when he pulled out, moving to get a damp washcloth to clean the both of you.

Jinyoung slid into bed behind you, pulling you into his arms.

You snuggled into his embrace, and let him hold you, not knowing what the morning would hold.

As you drifted off, you could’ve sworn you heard Jinyoung apologizing.

When you awoke, it felt hotter than it did when you fell asleep. Willing your eyes to open, you realized that you were no longer safe in Jinyoung’s embrace in the hotel room. You were in some sort of field surrounded by trees.

Looking around, you saw that all your friends were there as well.

About five feet from you all, there was a table that had a note on it.

The note read:

While all of you were very nice young ladies, this was always our original intent. We can see you, even now as you sit in the field. You will be given 20 minutes from the time you wake up to get a head start and try your best to survive. Surely, you’re all very confused, but we have no time for questions. The rules are simple. Get caught, get killed. We might find it in our hearts to spare some of you, but we must play it by ear. I suppose we’ll see how things go. Good luck, and hope we don’t catch you.

-Your friends, GOT7

“What the hell!” Jessica exclaimed.

“What does this even mean?” Nattie asked, “Are they hunting us?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, “We should probably get going.’’

“Going where?” Raquel asked.

“Somewhere to hide!” Danielle exclaimed.

“We’re literally all about to die!” Mackenzie cried.

“Not if we fucking go!” Bella spoke.

“The note says we get 20 minutes, we’ve been here for probably ten, we really need to move.’’ Danielle said.

“They can’t possibly be serious! I’m not going anywhere!” Jessica sat down.

“Fine, if you think they’re joking, stay here and get killed, I know me, Y/N, and Bella are gonna go. Anyone else wanna come?” Danielle asked.

“I think Jessie’s right. They can’t be serious!” Nattie said, planting herself next to Jessica.

“Rocky, I think you should come with us.” Y/N said to Raquel.

She looked between her friends. “This sucks.’’

“Tell me about it.’’ Bella said.

“Kenz, are you staying?” Danielle asked.

She nodded, “This can’t be real.’’

“I know I don’t want to stick around to find out.’’ You spoke, “let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time already.’’

You, Danielle, Rocky, and Bella took off toward the trees.

“If they can’t see us, we’ll have more time to hide.’’ Bella said.

“True.’’ The three of you nodded in agreement.

The four of you continued to run until you were well concealed by the tree line.

“Should we go back for the others?” Rocky asked after a few minutes of walking.

“Absolutely not.” Danielle spoke. She was the oldest out of all of you. Rocky was the youngest.

“They made their choice, Rocky. We have no idea what’s going on. We’d only be putting ourselves at risk.’’ Bella interjected.

“Yeah but-’’

“They read the note just the same as us.’’ You started, “they decided they wanted to stay.’’

Before any of you could say anything further, screams pierced the air.

“Oh fuck.’’ Bella exclaimed.

“We gotta move.’’ Danielle rushed.

You all began to move, just as the bullets came whizzing past your heads.

“Split up!” You heard Danielle scream.

Without a second thought, you took off to the left, away from the bullets.

Roots were catching your feet as branches whipped your face. It was painful, but now was not the time to be thinking about such things.

‘They can’t have unlimited bullets.’ You thought. ‘They’ll have to run out eventually.’

The thought calmed you at first, but then being bludgeoned to death scared you more.

Continuing to run, the sounds of bullets got farther and farther away, but so did the screams. ‘They’re all gonna be dead.’

Tears began involuntarily making their way out of your eyes. Could it really have been last night that you were bedded with Jinyoung? There was no way that that man was the same man out here hunting you today.

Maybe he really was apologizing last night. You thought you had imagined it. Apparently not.

Thinking back to it, there were a few times where he seemed off, and maybe this was why.

All you could do was hope you evaded them long enough.

You had been running for what felt like ever. Eventually, you reached a fence. It was probably 20 feet high, topped with barbed wire. They’ve obviously done things like this before. You decided the smartest thing to do would be to follow the fence until you found somewhere adequate to hide.

As you followed it, it began to force you back to the right.

You hadn’t heard anything in a long time now.

Just as you started to let your guard down, you were blindsided by someone jumping out of the bushes.

A scream forced its way out of your throat as you came face to face with BamBam, who stood at least a foot taller than you, weilding a knife.

“I had my bets placed on you being the one that lived the longest.’’ He laughed, “Guess not!”

He lunged at you, and you were barely able to avoid his attack.

Taking off again, it wasn’t hard to hear he was close after you.

Looking back to see how far he was, you crashed into someone else.

Scrambling back on your bottom, you tried to distance yourself from them, the tears beginning to fall again.

“You know the rules BamBam, she’s mine.’’

That voice sounded familiar.

“Ah you’re no fun hyung!’’

“Don’t make me call Jaebum.’’

“I’m going, I’m going! You’re welcome for flushing her out by the way!”

BamBam was waved off by the flick of the wrist.

“Scram.’’

There you sat, waiting for your death. A death that never came.

Looking up, you were face to face with Jinyoung.

“Are you just going to sit on the ground?”

You didn’t move a muscle.

“Look Y/N, if I was going to kill you I would have.’’

‘He had a point.’

Getting to your feet, you dusted yourself off.

“What now then?” You asked.

“You are going to go back to where you came from, because wherever it is, it was safe.’’ Jinyoung said matter of factly.

“What do you mean?” You shook your head. You didn’t understand.

“No one had seen you until you came back over here. If you go back that way you’ll be okay.’’ Jinyoung said through gritted teeth.

It clicked. He was protecting you.

Almost as if he’d read your mind, Jinyoung said: “Look, I’m sorry about your friends, but unless you want to join them, I suggest you go.’’

You sighed, following the fence back the way you’d come. Jinyoung watched you until you were out of sight.

Maybe some of the girls would be okay. All you could do was hope.

Once you got back to where you were, you settled yourself against a tree and sat. You were tired and hungry. Resigning to whatever happened, you let sleep overtake you.

When you awoke again, the sun was beginning to set.

You had no idea what time you had awoken in the first place, and no idea how long you had been running for. Therefore you had no idea what time it was.

‘I guess nothing happened while I was out.’ You thought.

You had no better plan than to return to the clearing where this whole thing started.

Before you even broke through the treeline, you could see the boys, along with two smaller figures

“They’re not all dead!” you said to yourself aloud.

You broke into a run, heading straight for them all.

“Ah Y/N! Nice of you to join us.’’ BamBam said.

“What’s going on?” You asked, looking at Jinyoung.

“We got bored.’’ BamBam interjected again, “You three are too much work. So we’ll let you live.’’

Sitting on the ground were Danielle and Bella.

“You three are also the only smart ones of your friends, because you were the only ones who wanted to run.’’ Jaebum added.

“So what now?” Bella asked.

“We go have dinner.” Jackson pointed to the house in the distance.

“I’m starving.” Yugyeom spoke up.

The rest of the boys nodded in agreement.

They began walking back to the house.

You and the girls sat there baffled.

Jinyoung turned to you three.

“They’re all a bunch of liars.” He spoke, crossing his arms. “Three of us broke the one rule that we’re supposed to uphold.

“And that is?” Danielle asked.

“Not to get attached.’’ He replied, looking at you.

“So two of your friends are attached to us?” Bella asked standing up. “They just killed our friends!”

“It’s not that simple.’’ Jinyoung stressed, “From the beginning each one of us liked one of you, from that point on we were supposed to have our fun out here and be done. On to the next. But I know for me and Y/N…’’ he trailed off. “I talked to Youngjae and Mark the next earlier before this and they were in the same boat.’’

“So this had nothing to do with us being smart? You’re just a bunch of idiots.’’ You said

“If you wanna think about it that way I guess so.’’

The three of you just sighed.

“C’mon, I’m sure you’re hungry. I promise they’re not gonna try anything else.’’ Jinyoung pleaded, extending his hand to you.

You looked from his eyes to his hand, eventually deciding on taking it.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

#park jinyoung imagine #park jinyoung smut #jinyoung smut #got7 imagine #got7 smut #got7 crack #park jinyoung crack #smut #jinyoung

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itlurkswithin · 3 years

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Snow’s Surprise

@notsolittleruby

A scouting mission — a part of Ambrose almost wanted to decline the Queen’s proposal, but besides that being rude it was also stupidly boyish of him. Declining a job over a lady, Ambrose almost let a laugh out when he realised what his brain was doing. Instead he cleared his throat, attempting to conceal the grin that had already begun to form. The laughter lines that stemmed from his eyes giving him away.

‘Of course, your Majesty.’ He had replied.

Queen Snow’s eyes twinkled as she seemed to question the man’s sudden jovial nature, though finally she said nothing of it. Only adding that he would have a partner for once. Ambrose’s brows furrowed slightly at the idea. Naturally he was concerned — he wasn’t exactly forthcoming about his abilities. It was his secret. One he wanted to be kept that way. But it would be worse if his partner didn’t know. The shock of his blood was something he didn’t want to deal with, he already felt the shame inside himself without others validating it.

The Queen had reassured him with a warm smile, “She’s…full of surprises. Don’t worry.”

He had almost blurted out the question then, “Do you…” Ambrose watched Queen Snow eye him with anticipation, but he only shook his head,”Never mind,” Before bowing out of the hall.

As Ambrose walked through town thinking back to this conversation, wondering what partner would be awaiting him at the end of the road, his mind couldn’t help but wander back to Red. He had taken the long way to the bridge, stopping in at the tavern which conveniently happened to be on that route. Ambrose wasn’t entirely sure what he was hoping for — well, that was a lie. He was hoping he’d see her, the rest, however, he was unsure of. The Siren practically ripped the door off its hinges as he pushed his way in a little too eagerly. If he had been aiming for the element of surprise then he had certainly thwarted that. Unfortunately (but thankfully, after his entrance) the brunette he longed to see was nowhere to be seen. He sighed before speaking up, “My apologies — don’t know my own strength sometimes.” a cheeky brow raised before he turned tail.

Yep, totally meant to do that.

It had been a week since he met her — since his run-in with the wolf — and less than a week since they’d said goodbye, or rather she left. When they had gotten him to safety, back in his hut, Ambrose had promptly passed out. Blood still oozing from the wounds the wolf had inflicted. The following day was a blur. Ambrose faded in and out of consciousness, his body feverish as his natural healing abilities worked their magic, weaving his torn flesh back together again. It took every ounce of energy from the Siren.

What he could remember almost felt like a fever dream. If it wasn’t for the note she had left the next day, Ambrose would have believed it was just that. But no, what he remembered was real — Red’s hand sweeping the hair gently off his forehead, the crackling of the fire as rain pelted off the small windows. The room glowing with hues of amber and gold, orange and yellow. And red. Always red.

There was one moment that stood out amongst the flashes of images, silhouettes and colour. A moment where Ambrose’s energy had gathered enough for him to be conscious. He squinted, his eyes blinking open. Ambrose’s breath caught in the back of his throat, drawing the attention of the brunette as a rasping cough emitted from him. He mumbled words of apology, explaining that his body takes a day or two to get back on its feet again. “Thank you…for staying. I’ll make it up to you — I promise.” Ambrose remembered in his daze taking Red’s slender hand in his, turning it over to softly trace his fingertips against her palm. The flicker of the fire causing her skin to glow in its light, and just like that his eyelids fell. Losing her once again to darkness.

When he awoke the next morning fresher than a spring flower, he was alone. The note being the only sign that he had not been dreaming. Though low, the fire still burned but the room had lost its radiance.

Ambrose couldn’t imagine what he would have said to her if she had been at the Tavern. Almost anything that sprang to mind sounded pitiful. Perhaps it was for the best. He was still puzzled by her opening, ‘A…’ she had written — was she trying to be mysterious? His fingers absentmindedly, fiddled with the outline of the note in his pocket before reaching up to satisfy the itch in his chest. Ambrose’s wounds had healed, making their way quickly into scars, raised and freshly pink against his skin. His chest no longer ached as he moved, now it was only the tightness that lingered.

As he walked Ambrose shook himself internally. Pull it together. He couldn’t be off tracking The Evil Queen’s men with his head in the clouds, that was practically a death wish — for him and his partner. Whatever was happening with Red, whatever could potentially happen with Red, would have to wait.

The solitary bridge sat at the edge of town, leading into the deep forest. No bodies loitered near it, most preferring to lean into the security of the centre of town. Ambrose had left early, thinking that his time at the tavern would take longer, but now all he was left with was the sound of the river as it trickled behind him, lapping up to lick the stone.

Time passed dreadfully slow. Ambrose could only appreciate the way he had learned to kerb his racing thoughts in recent years. He urged time to move quicker, passing the seconds by creating absentminded patterns in the water with the smallest twitches of his fingers. Nobody would suspect a thing had they caught him.

Occasionally he would look back to town and eventually, after a succession of glances, he noticed a pair of women making their way to him. One he immediately identified as the Queen, though even she was trying to keep some anonymity. Ambrose had been careful to hide his identity too, shrouding himself in darkness with a low hanging hood.

The air felt thick, a storm brewing. A stable was not far from the bridge, if the woman accompanying him needed a horse they could find one there — but it was at that moment another wave of recognition hit him.

As the pair moved closer the light of the sun illuminated the other’s cloak, a deep red standing out against the stone and wood of the town. The woman wore a corset, one that Ambrose’s mind had reimagined a thousand times. One that he knew of only one woman wearing.

“Not a chance…”

This was what she meant in her letter — urgent business with the Queen. For a moment Ambrose had wondered if it was The Evil Queen Red had been bound to. Yet he knew that assumption was a little ridiculous, he still felt a wash of relief upon seeing her with Queen Snow.

Call it a wave of euphoria, or perhaps a sudden crash of Ambrose’s nerves — how the Gods had aligned the universe in such a way he could not believe — a quiet laugh of disbelief escaped him, the women finally close enough to hear him speak.

In one swoop the lean Siren whipped his hood down, revealing his ashen blonde hair. A smirk effortlessly pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Are you following me?” He pointed the question to Red before turning to bow courteously to Queen Snow, “Your Majesty.” Bolting up right once more, he returned to the other, “Am I that hard to resist…R?”

#notsolittleruby #snowssurprise #starter #closed starter #a for amber #pre curse Amber #(( it feels SO STRANGE writing this Ambrose again))#(( this feels way too long for a starter IM SORRY i hope u enjoy))#snow #snow white #ouat

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pollylynn · 4 years

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Title: Devoir WC: 1200

She stands outside the men’s locker room door with her fist poised to knock. She stands there for such a long time that her arm starts to ache from the awkward almost pose. She’s not sure knocking is wise. She’s not sure she’s the man for this job, figuratively or literally, but there’s not exactly anyone else and the job isn’t going anywhere.

She doesn’t knock in the end. Anyone who thinks she’s trying to sneak some kind of creeper peek can get over themselves. Anyone who is scandalized by her presence can turn in their badge.

But there’ll be no resignations tonight. There’ll be no pearls clutched or towels hastily pressed to exposed naked bits. The room his empty except for the reason she’s here. The room is empty except for a blood-soaked Kevin Ryan, who is sitting on one of the hard, narrow benches staring intently at drain set in a tile floor.

“Hey.” She speaks softly, from a few feet away, hoping not to startle him.

“Hey,” he says, sounding anything but startled—sounding absolutely toneless.

“You were right about Lopez.” She takes a step nearer to him. She eyes the space next to him, the bench across from him, on the other side of the world’s most fascinating drain. She thinks she should sit, but she can’t decide where, so she stands. “He gave us a face to go with your grey suit. He’s a good witness.”

“Good,” he repeats, as though the word—the very concept—is alien to him, but he rouses himself. He shakes his head and presses his hands together. It’s a prelude to straightening his shoulders. A prelude to Right. Let’s go, but he’s not there yet. He’s just not there, and there’s so little she can say.

She sees his tie dangling from one limp hand. She sees an unpleasant, stuttering series of cuts across the knuckles of the other. She wonders for a fleeting moment what the story is there—if it was a wall or a locker or a convenient car door that he slammed his fist into. She almost asks. It’s on the tip of her tongue, but it’s such an Esposito thing to steer the conversation into the safe waters of things they’ve punched in the heat of the moment. And Esposito is not the man for the job.

“Probably a good idea to get out of the rest of that.” She finally takes a seat across from him. She can see the lapels of his jacket are shiny with still-wet blood. She can see the Rorschach blots of rust red on the light grey stripes of his dangling tie. Worst of all, the dark, dark stains all the way up to the white, open throat of his shirt. “Something in your locker you can change into?”

“Change. Yeah. I’ll get changed.” He makes no move, though. He has moved on from the drain to the tie. His eyes fix on the narrow end, pointing downward, circling a little with the transfer of energy from his shaking hands. “Jenny hates this.”

“The . . . tie?” The question tumbles out. It’s absolutely stupid, and she wonders if it’s too late to get Esposito in to do the job instead.

Ryan laughs, though. He snatches up the end of the tie and balls the whole thing in his injured fist. It hurts. She sees him wince. She sees the individual, stuttering cuts ooze fresh blood, but he’s still laughing.

“Yeah. Hates the tie.”

He meets her eyes for the first time, and it’s rough. There’s still a grin on his face, but it’s tight and hard and wrong. Of all of them—even Castle—Kevin Ryan is the most untouched by the job. He is the most hopeful, the most trusting, the most likely to see the good and the possible in any situation, and every facet of that has taken a hit tonight. Every fundamental part of him has taken a hit, and there’s so little she can say.

“Let me ditch it for you, then.” She extends a hand, palm up. “Let me take care of all of it.”

He looks bewildered for a moment. He looks down at himself, and it’s as if every sensation makes itself known at once. His eyes go wide at the sight, his nose wrinkles in disgust. He plucks at the sodden white fabric sticking to his skin and looks like he might be sick.

“A minute.” He stands, a little unsteadily, and presses the tie into her hand. She manages to keep her face neutral, but it’s not easy—the stiffened patches where the blood has dried pairs nauseatingly with the tacky feel where it hasn’t, and it is not easy. “Give me a minute.”

He peels off his jacket and thrusts it at her, straight armed. She takes it and turns the thing awkwardly, trying to find a way to hold it that brings her least in contact with the wet parts. Ryan, meanwhile, fishes in the open locker behind him and comes up with a dark shirt—an NYPD turtleneck.

He spins to face her, the shirt clutched to his chest. The sight is comical. A little comical, anyway, when she contemplates what she worried she might be facing when she burst into the men’s locker room without knocking.

“I need—” he blanches as though the scent of blood has just hit him again. “I should shower.”

“You should. I’ll take this. I can get—“ She stands abruptly and leans toward the door as though she’s about to get a running start. “Your shirt. I can wait. Outside. For it.”

She does get a running start, practically, but Ryan’s voice stops her.

“Beckett?” She turns. He’s not clutching the dark turtleneck to his chest like a scandalized maiden anymore. It dangles from one limp hand at his side, though he lifts his chin and squares his shoulders. “Thanks.”

She gives him a sharp nod and continues on her way. She more or less trips over Castle, who may or may not have had his ear pressed quite recently to the door of the men’s locker room. Whether he did or didn’t he is unashamed.

“How’d it go?” he asks quietly. “How’s our boy?”

“A little less . . . boyish,” she says with a tight smile that dissolves more or less immediately. “I don’t know. I didn’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say. Not to that.” He reaches out toward the grisly bundle she’s holding, but his hand falls short of actually touching it. “But you were there. That’s what matters.”

“I was there.”

She exhales noisily and leans against the wall, waiting for Ryan to hand off the last sense-surround reminder of his ordeal tonight. Castle takes up his post next to her and they wait. They are here.

She’s not sure she believes that’s merely being here is what matters in a moment like this, but she’ll hold tight to the grisly bundle so Ryan doesn’t have to. She’ll get rid of the blood-stained tie that Jenny hates. She’ll do what needs doing for their boy, because she is the man for the job. A/N: At least Ryan’s 2-week-anniversary tie wasn’t cruelly destroyed. This is booooring. Hmm.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 7 #Castle: At Close Range #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Kevin Ryan #Javier Esposito #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Hmm

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ooachilliaoo · 4 years

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Time Effect: Coda

She can feel the wound in her side… leaking. Slowly, so slowly, her life force oozing out of her by degrees. Yet, she can’t quite summon the energy to care.

The sky above her is ablaze. Fire and stars and ships and destruction.

But she’s won. She’s won.

It’s only as she’s hovering on the edge of consciousness that she realises she won’t live to see what happens next. How her decision, her final choice affects the galaxy, her friends, her comrades.

She regrets it, just a little bit, but the regret is far outweighed by the knowledge that she won’t be waiting for him, like she promised she would be.

There can’t be much moisture left in her dying body, but somehow, she’s still able to feel the few tears that slip down her cheeks.

She’s about to pass out, to finally go gently into that good night, hopefully permanently this time, when she hears it. A specific, distinctive sound that she’s only heard once before but could never forget.

The whining screech gets steadily louder and louder as the box shape begins to form around her. Within seconds, she’s lying, not on the wreckage of the Citadel, but on the deck of the Doctor’s time ship.

“Up you get, Commander,” the Doctor says from the console in the centre of the room and she does. Easily.

It seems impossible, but just as they had when the Crucible/Citadel Intelligence had raised her to its home, her injuries suddenly seem… less significant.

At least she can breathe now.

She glances around. The Doctor’s new time ship is… incredible. New, only because this can’t possibly be the small wooden box she’d once seen in the Normandy’s cargo bay, can it? It’s… huge, far larger than the dimensions of the box would have allowed.

He must have gotten a new ship since their last meeting. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Like she had.

“Doctor?” she asks. Not that she isn’t grateful that he’s here, it’s just that she hasn’t seen him since that day on the SR1, and his timing seems… significant.

“I can’t save you,” he says, cutting directly to the point. She appreciates that, he certainly hadn’t been very ‘to the point’ the last time they’d met. “You have to die here, now, and if you don’t, the timeline will collapse and destroy the universe.”

Her impending death is not a shock. Even before she’d felt her lifeblood seeping from the many, many wounds she’d sustained, she’d believed, since the moment that Cerberus had brought her back, that she was living on borrowed time. If she had to die, dying to save the galaxy seems like a pretty good way to go.

But she is curious as to why the Doctor is here, if not to save her.

He grins.

“There’s something you should see first, and as long as you’re with me you’re both dying and not dying, see?”

She doesn’t, but she can’t deny that putting off her death for a time, even a short time, has a certain appeal.

“Brilliant!” He takes her half-shrug/half-nod as assent. “Right then. Here we go!”

She watches him as he dances around the console, hitting buttons and levers that look nothing like a flight console in the slightest. He looks exactly the same as he had the last time she’d seen him. Except for his eyes, there’s a loss there, of the kind she understood too well.

She shoots him a careful, searching look. One that uses her years of leadership experience and her razor-sharp, rigorously honed instincts.

“Where’s Rose?” she asks in as neutral a tone as possible.

The effect is immediate. He stiffens, knuckles whitening on the controls, his gaze dropping to the console as if it’s the only thing that makes sense to him anymore.

“Gone.”

She doesn’t press, nor does she need to know the details. That kind of loss speaks for itself.

“So,” she says, aware that if she doesn’t lighten the mood they’re heading for a very long awkward silence. “Where are we going?”

As quickly as the sorrowful, aching, lost expression had appeared on his face, it vanishes. Replaced with the joyous boyish expression she’d barely tolerated back when they’d first met.

“Everywhere.”

Read the rest on Ao3!

#Mass effect #Dr Who #Kaidan Alenko x Shepard #Kaidan Alenko x Femshep #Tenth Doctor #here it is the epilogue #yes it's painful of COURSE it is #hope you guys enjoy this one #it was torture to write

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ladymercytaylor · 5 years

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All In - Joe Mazzello x Reader

A/N: HELLO! T’is my first time writing for the BoRhap/Queen world and I’ve started to go big! This is the first chapter in a multi-part series I’ve started working on. Hope you like it! Summary: You and Joe were in a blissful relationship for 4 years. It seemed as though everything was perfect. You’d moved in together and all of your friends were taking bets on when he’d finally put a ring on your finger. That is until it all fell apart. Now, 1 year on you’re thrown together at a mutual friend’s wedding and it changes everything between you.

Chapter 1 - 3 weeks “No. No no no no no no, you have to be fucking kidding me” you panicked, hands shaking as they held the white stick. 3 minutes and your entire life was turned upside down. Well the act itself definitely took more than 3 minutes but that was beside the point now. Now the only thing that occupied your mind was the baby growing inside you. That and the father.

3 weeks ago…

The inn was absolutely stunning, far surpassing the photos that Sebastian had been showing you for 6 months with that beaming grin on his face. The weather was absolutely perfect for a June wedding; azure blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds pushed lazily along by a gentle breeze. The air ruffled the pleated skirt of your pale blue dress as you walked down the gravel path towards the ceremony space. Rows and rows of white chairs were assembled in pin straight rows facing an elaborate arch dripping with white flowers. Adjusting your Ray Bans on your nose you finally spotted the man of the hour and bounded over to him, a grin stretching across your face. “Sebby!” you cried, throwing your arms around his neck. “Hello, love” he chuckled into your hair as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “you look stunning, as per usual” he added with an exaggerated wink as you parted.

“Please” you sighed with a dramatic eye roll, “I think the only person that’ll outdo you today will be Erin. My word, you scrub up wonderfully” you teased, gesturing to the deep navy suit tailored perfectly to his firm frame. He blushed a slight pink, sparkling blue eyes turning towards the ground. A moment of pause passed between the two of you, a slight tension settling.

“Thank you. For coming” he murmured. An ache pulled your chest at his words and it was your turn to avert your gaze. “It’s your big day, Seb. Wouldn’t miss that for anything” you replied softly. You didn’t see it, but a sympathetic smile crossed your friend’s face. “Well it’s very much appreciated” You managed a small smile before stepping away, leaving the groom to his parade of well-wishers. A small bar was set up towards the back of the ceremony space and you made a beeline for it, immediately deciding that a drink would make this much more bearable. “One champagne please” the blonde bartender nodded after you placed your order, grabbing an empty champagne glass from the rows and rows behind her. As you waited patiently for the bubbling cocktail a strong hand landed gently on your shoulder and you turned to find a very familiar face.

“Okay, I’ve been silent for the last half hour but you’re at risk of getting whiplash now” Ben chided as Joe continued to survey the crowd of attendants. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” the older man muttered distractedly, his hazel eye scanning every face on the lawn. “Please. Can you at least stop for my sake? No girl is going to go near me if I’m associated with you” the blonde teased. He breathed out a sigh of relief when Joe rolled his eyes but turned to look at him. “Thanks. Was that really so hard?” Ben was used to getting joking answers from his friend, but Joe didn’t seem to have the energy for it today. “Sorry, sorry” he muttered distractedly, tugging at the cuffs of his suit jacket. “This is just….harder than I thought it would be” “It’s all right, mate” Ben murmured, clapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. “I saw a bar when we walked in. How about we get a drink, yeah? Settle your nerves” he suggested and Joe nodded eagerly. “God, yes. Anything at this point” he stammered, following his blonde friend away from the rows of pristine chairs. His heart was racing in his chest just as it had been when he’d woken up that morning. 1 year. 1 whole year was not enough time to handle this. And he realised this as soon as his eyes fell on you, looking as beautiful as ever as you waited at the bar. “Ben. Ben. Ben, don’t. Stop!” he started to ramble, grabbing at Ben’s white shirt sleeve. “Ben, she’s right there!” he hissed but his friend didn’t slow his pace.

“I know” he murmured before reaching out to touch your shoulder.

“Ben!” you exclaimed, startled as you recognised his bright green eyes. “What on Earth are you doing here?” “You know I can’t resist a wedding, love” he chuckled, pulling you into a tight hug. You couldn’t help but squeeze him a little tighter when his arms wrapped around your shoulders. “Stop lying, Benny” you replied melodically and his cheeks darkened slightly. “Well, I got roped in at the last minute with the promise of plenty of single girls and a wingman” he admitted, scuffing his dress shoe nervously against the perfectly manicured grass. You sensed that he wasn’t quite telling you the truth but the thought left your head as soon as you heard the word ‘wingman’. “So…so you came with Joe?” you asked, trying to keep the tension out of your voice but you knew that you were failing miserably. “Hi” came a nervous voice from over Ben’s shoulder. That was when you saw him. It was like no time had passed. His gorgeous auburn hair was slightly longer but those hazel eyes you’d fallen in love with 5 years ago were exactly the same. You felt your whole body clench as your gaze met his. “Hello” was your stuttered reply. The soft clink of the foot of the glass hitting the bar was a welcome reprieve and you purposely turned to pick it up very slowly as you tried to regulate your breathing again. “So, how’ve you been?” Joe asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, as Ben engaged the bartender to snag two more glasses of champagne. “Fine” you replied curtly and Joe felt his stomach sink. “Did you see the movie?” Ben interjected quickly after passing Joe his drink. “I did” you admitted, feeling the tips of yours ears heat up. “You know I can’t resist Queen” “And what did you think?!” he probed excitedly while Joe focussed intensely on the bubbles fizzing in his glass. You had been around for almost all of the filming of Bohemian Rhapsody and it was impossible for Ben to forget how excited you were for the finished product. You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to tell them the truth but the words bubbled out of your mouth without consent. “It was stunning” you admitted, noting the smug grin on Ben’s face. “If I’m being critical, a bit inaccurate, but its heart was in the right place” “High praise” Ben teased and your cheeks warmed. “Could’ve used less Deaky though” you added, acidity dripping from your words. Joe looked down, his chest aching as if you’d just kicked it. “Can…can we not do this?” Ben suggested, a new softness in his tone. “I know shit went down between you two” his weary green eyes dashed between the broken couple in front of him, “but could we pretend you two are okay, just for today? I’ve missed hanging out with you” he whined and you almost smiled at that boyish charm you hadn’t seen in a year. “And it’s a wedding! People are supposed to be happy at weddings” “I feel like most films don’t back you up there, Benny” Joe chuckled softly, daring a glance at you. You eyed him cautiously and you could feel your heart racing under the thin fabric of your periwinkle dress. The desire to turn around and walk away was so strong, but the adorable hopefulness glittering in Ben’s eyes had you rooted to the spot. “Truce?” you murmured tensely, letting one hand leave your champagne glass to stretch towards Joe. A relieved breath passed his lips and he immediately grasped your hand in his. The soft slide of your skin against his sent his heart into a skitter. He’d almost forgotten how your touch felt. It felt like home. “Truce” “Excellent!” Ben cheered, throwing his hands into the air much to the bewilderment of a few nearby wedding guests. “Now let’s go get good seats” “Yeah, I can’t wait to see Sebastian cry” Joe laughed as the three of you walked back towards the seating area that was slowly filling up with guests. “He won’t cry” you argued, walking next to Ben who seemed happy to stay in the middle to risk any chance of the truce destabilising. “Erin will. Without a doubt. Not Sebastian though” “Wanna bet?” Joe challenged as the trio found vacant seats to the right of the aisle. “What’s the wager?” you countered, crossing one leg over the other so you were angled towards him. That action didn’t go unnoticed by Ben who couldn’t help but smirk to himself. “Loser buys the winner a drink?” Joe offered after a moment causing Ben to bark a laugh. “It’s an open bar, dork” he chuckled causing Joe to blush a deep red. “How about loser has to piggy back the winner into the reception?” “I’m game if you are” “You’re on” he grinned.

It was a beautiful ceremony. There was absolutely no denying the love between Sebastian and his bride. For all the years you’d known the actor you had never seen him so happy. It practically oozed out of his skin as he watched Sarah walk towards him in her stunning white gown. But you couldn’t help but sigh when tears rolled down Sebastian’s cheeks and not Erin’s. Joe did not hesitate in leaning around Ben to grin at you, thrilled at his victory. You rolled your eyes at him but he smiled when he recognised that playful twist of your lips.

“Jealousy! Turning saints in to the sea!” the shouts of the crowd echoed off the large windows that covered half of the reception space. The sky outside had long since turned black, white diamond stars twinkling in the darkness and all the tension that had crackled between you and your ex-boyfriend earlier that had completely melted away. It was impossible to stay mad at him when he was pulling out his dorkiest dance moves with reckless abandon. But that familiar ache returned to your chest when he grabbed your hand and spun you across the dancefloor. Weddings had been a staple event for the four years the two of you were together and having Joe’s hands in yours while singing your lungs out to The Killers was bringing back waves of nostalgia. “I think you’re being clocked, Benny” you shouted over the din of the music. The blonde’s brow furrowed and you pointed to a rather fetching bridesmaid leaning up against the bar. Her eyes had been glued to Ben ever since she saw him while walking back down the aisle. But hours had passed since then and you figured Ben had partaken of one too many champagnes to notice her glances. “She’s pretty!” he exclaimed, sounding almost bewildered. “Reckon I’ve got a shot?” “Only one way to find out!” you replied, roughly spinning him to face the bar and giving him a shove in the back “Go!” Ben stumbled slightly but quickly recovered, straightening his white shirt before sauntering over towards the girl. “I reckon he’ll close the deal in 10 minutes” Joe laughed over your shoulder, still bopping away to the song. “You underestimate him. 5 minutes” you corrected, pausing in your dancing as the song faded out and the DJ announced the last song of the night. The throng of guests groaned in disappointment as the opening notes of Ed Sheeran’s Perfect sailed out of the speakers. You and Joe stood awkwardly as everyone around you began to pair up and sway gently. He cleared his throat uncomfortably before offering you a slightly shaking hand. “For old time’s sake?” he murmured, nerves obvious in his hazel eyes. You took a deep breath. Joe expected you to reject his offer, but you surprised him by stepping into his embrace, grasping his hand tightly as your other came to rest gently on his shoulder. “Thank you…for tonight” Joe whispered, his lips almost brushing the shell of your ear. “Couldn’t break Ben’s heart” you replied evenly, eyes sweeping over the other dancers. Sebastian was twirling Erin across the floor, giggles falling effortlessly from both of their lips. “Well thank you for that too. I’m glad I didn’t have to drag a little kicked puppy around all night” he chuckled. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. You still wore the same perfume and the scent was sending him into overdrive. It had been so long since he’d seen you. Since he’d held you in his arms. And a painful thought in the back of his mind was whispering that this may be the last time he ever would. “I’m sorry –” he started to say but you immediately cut across him. “I don’t want to talk about it, Joe” He gulped nervously but his rhythm never faltered. “I was right. 5 minutes” you murmured, tilting your head towards the bar. Joe peered over to see Ben’s retreating figure, the bridesmaid tucked firmly into his side. “Damn. Kid didn’t even need my wingman skills” Joe muttered bitterly and you couldn’t help but laugh. “No offence but your wingman skills are well below par. I think you would have hindered more than helped” “I am deeply offended by that” he gasped, pushing you away only to spin you back in, wrapping his arms around your middle tightly. “See, I still got the moves” You opened your mouth to reply with some witty quip, but the words died on your tongue. Joe’s mouth was only centimetres from yours, just as pink and inviting as ever. The music had fallen away, the only sound reverberating in your ears was the thundering of your heartbeat. “How – how long is this truce going to last?” Joe whispered, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up. You never answered him. Saying the words out loud made it all too real. So instead, you pulled him from the dancefloor, grabbing your bag from your table as the two of you left the venue and stepped into the cold night air.

3 weeks later….

“Are you planning on getting off the couch anytime soon?” your roommate asked, staring at you from her place in the kitchen. “I’m beginning to worry that you’ve petrified” “Shut up, Flick” you groaned into the worn cushions of your navy sofa. “I’m not in the mood” “Jesus, what’s eating you?” she asked, grabbing the bowl of popcorn she’d been making. She plopped down on the couch opposite yours. “Feel awful. I’m nauseous, exhausted and I forgot my log on at work this morning. Had to call bloody IT to reset it” It had easily been one of the most embarrassing things to happen to you in a long time. Who forgets the same log in that they’ve had for 3 bloody years? “Sounds like you’re getting your period to me” Flick offered, picking up a few kernels of popcorn and popping them into her mouth. “Don’t you have one of those tracker apps?” “Yeah” you sighed, frustrated at the thought of even having to move your arm to grab it off the coffee table. “Can you check it? Passwords the same” “Lazy lazy lazy” she scolded teasingly, picking up your phone all the same. Her black polished finger swiped across the screen until she found the app and opened it. “Huh.” she muttered, “This thing says it was due last week. Maybe you’re pregnant!” she laughed, chucking your phone back down and flicking on the TV, completely unaware of the panic that her words had caused. You’d kept your encounter with Joe entirely secret. Flick had been there through the whole breakup ordeal; she was the one that saved you from your sky-high New York rent by moving in when Joe left. As much as she’d loved him when the two of you were happy, there was absolutely no way she would approve of you giving in and sleeping with your ex. And you didn’t blame her. Trying not to raise her suspicions you waited for a few minutes before excusing yourself to the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed you riffled around under the sink until you found your target. The blue box that held your emergency pregnancy test. You’d hoped you’d never have to use it, yet only a few minutes later you found yourself staring at the ceiling, willing the timer on your phone to go off and signify the end of your 3 minutes of hell. The shrill alarm echoed off the tiled walls and you quickly silenced it, your heart hammering against your rib cage. Turning over the stick shaking hands, your heart sank as your eyes found the pink plus staring back up at you. “No. No no no no no no, you have to be fucking kidding me”

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #borhap cast #borhap cast x reader #john deacon x reader

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asherranceoftheheart · 5 years

Text

Masks - JSE Drabble

Character/s: Chase Brody, Marvin the Magnificent Warnings: Angst, Anti Masterpost of my Stories AO3 edition of the Post

Tag List: @the-rampaige @iris-the-asparagus @sqxxddygremlin @awkward-bullshit @jaysflight @assbutt-of-the-readers AN: Chase why u gotta be so rude @egopocalypse I blame you for how bad he got oh my god

Flick on… Flick off…

“How do you think you’re gonna die, Marv?” Blue eyes glowed with the light of the flame coming from the lighter that Chase had been playing with for the past minutes of silence he and his prisoner found themselves in.

The magician didn’t reply. He merely glowered at Chase, body heaving with the efforts he made earlier of trying to escape the chains that were wrapped around him. His eyes and hands began to glow green as he attempted to use his magic to break his bonds but a massive shock went through him; electric shocks shooting up and down his spine until he let his magic dissipate and he slumped in his position on the floor, body twitching and shaking occasionally from what it just suffered. Faint wheezing breaths escaped him and was the only sound that disturbed the silence of the room.

Chase just watched his squirming with a serene smile. The father patiently waited for the other man to lose all of his energy and didn’t react to any of the magician’s goading or taunts. He kept flicking the lighter on and off and the sharp sound grated itself against Marvin’s ears and felt like needles scratching inside his head. He watched with cold eyes as Marvin’s irritation started to give way to desperation and panic as the truth of his situation finally started to sink in.

“You know Marv, you’re right! Magic really is a neat trick. Thanks for teaching me the basics and giving me access to all of your books,” Chase’s smile widened into a toothy grin as his eyes sparkled with devious delight. “It was really enlightening.”

Marvin swallowed around the lump in his throat as Chase finally dropped all pretenses and the shield binding his magic down, and the older ego could see the corruption and dark magic practically oozing out of the pores of the other.

“Y-You were supposed to use that magic to help protect yourself from Him not join Him! Did you become another one of his loyal, mindless little puppe—” Marvin jerked back, heart hammering against his chest when Chase jumped off the table he had been sitting on and started walking towards him. “Stay away from m— Don’t touch me!”

He flinched away from Chase’s fingers as it reached out to his face. He closed his eyes tightly and waited for the pain.

Seconds passed by but…

Nothing.

“Huh. Anti was right. You really are a scaredy-cat without your mask.” Chase snickered.

Even without opening his eyes, Marvin could see the boyish grin lighting up the younger ego’s face. In the past, it would have been an endearing sight coming from his normally down brother but now…

A finger hooked itself underneath his mask. His breath hitched when Chase started taking off his last line of defense. His eyes snapped open and pleading turquoise eyes met cruelly glinting baby blue eyes.

“Please, no.” He begged, his pride and haughty mask completely tossed aside.

Chase merely smiled down at him and then plucked off the mask from his face. Marvin could feel his breath quickening and tears burning at the corner of his eyes the longer he felt the cold air sting the bare skin of his scarred face.

The younger man looked down at the mask, turning it over in his hands before dropping it to the ground where it made a loud clack. Chase slowly raised his feet on top of it as if taunting him, and Marvin immediately knew what he was about to do.

“Wait—!” Marvin screamed but Chase’s smile just gained a cruel edge to it before he stomped down on the magician’s most prized possession with all his strength.

It shattered within contact, making that loud cracking sound that broke a part of Marvin on the inside. He stared unseeingly at the shattered pieces of his mask.

“Oops. Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” But there was no hint of remorse or apology in Chase’s voice. There was only condescending amusement at seeing him break so easily. “I still don’t get why you’re so attached to that thing, Marv. It looks like it belongs to one of those cheap masks section in the grocery.”

He was numb. He couldn’t muster up any strength to make another sound.

“... You’re so pathetic. Breaking over such a little thing? No wonder Jack didn’t think much of you from the start,” Marvin could only watch as Chase grinded his foot against the remaining pieces of the mask until they turned to dust. “Hey Marv, you were about to ask me before if I joined Anti as one of his own right?”

A hand grabbed the unresponsive man’s chin and forced him to meet Chase’s eyes which had flickered over to a familiar green color.

“Yeah, you’re right. I did join him. But there’s one thing you got wrong though,” Chase tilted his head to the side and poked Marvin’s nose. “I’m loyal, sure. I’m also his puppet, there’s no doubt about that. But Anti prefers a puppet who could think for himself as his General, you know?”

Marvin felt his heart stop at those words. Jackie had been complaining about another magic using villain who called himself General was manipulating the minds of the people in the city with some of the darkest magics he has ever seen. They had some suspicions that the General was working together with Anti since the glitch didn’t seem to bothered by the villain infringing on his territory.

“You were the one who hurt Jackie to the point he was unconscious for an entire week.” It was whispered with the same hollowness that Marvin could feel in his heart. Horror and disgust tasted bitter in his tongue as he remembered Chase being so devastated at Jackie’s horrid injuries.

But that had all just been faked.

Chase giggled and allowed him to drop his chin back to his chest. The younger ego made a tiny spin in front of him and practically chirped, “I’m quite the good actor, aren’t I?”

And he is… No one suspected that he would be completely on Anti’s side, not when he expressed complete disgust and hatred at the mere mention of the glitch in their presence. He kept their spirits up as much as he was also swamped with stress and having to fight back Anti’s attempts of taking the channel.

“Why?” was all Marvin could ask. He wanted to understand. He needed to understand.

Chase clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head to the side.

“Why?” Chase mused, he paced in front of Marvin as he thought of his answer. “Well, I’m sick of being weak, Marvin. I’m sick of being treated like I’ll shatter any second now just because a small breeze passed through me. So when Anti came to me, telling me that he can teach me, can help me grow stronger, can stop me from feeling like utter shit every single day while the rest of you are off, hiding away from him while I’m trying to keep the channel up, I decided to take his offer.”

He crouched down so that they were face to face and the smile Chase had on earlier had faded away into a blank mask.

“While all of you weren’t there, he came and then he took. Simple and easy,” Chase simply said before straightening up again. “I’d love to chat more with you but I still got videos to edit, people to brainwash, and maybe a certain doctor to hunt down for my King.”

Marvin jerked at those words, he has to find a way to warn the others about Chase turning his back on them. They don’t even have a single idea—

“Oh and Marv? Feel free to try using your magic. This beautiful room was made by mine and my King’s ideas. I asked you how do you think you’re going to die earlier right? Well… Since you didn’t answer, I guess I should tell you now.” Chase patted Marvin’s hair before entangling the strands around his fingers and yanking the magician’s face up to meet his smiling eyes. “You’re going to die here, all alone and completely forgotten by everyone. Every second that you spend in this room, you’ll feel your magic being sapped out until you’re nothing but a cold, empty shell of yourself. You’ll die here, in the dark, and no matter how loud you scream or beg, nobody will come to save you. Not the hero, not the doc, not the mute, and most definitely, not the community.”

“Wait—! Chase, fuck—” The chains clattered as Marvin attempted to reach out to Chase when he started walking away. He didn’t even know why he was trying to get the other to reach reason not when he knows now just how tightly Anti’s strings strung around his little brother. “You don’t have to do this!”

“On the contrary, of course I do! Once you’re down, Jackie’s gonna be too busy trying to hunt outside for you to pay attention to what’s happening on the inside. Then I can take down the Doc and Jamie so that Jackster would be completely helpless.” Chase cheerily said, walking with a skip on his steps. “Once we got you guys down well… I can lay down the world on my King’s feet. Happy twenty-two million subscribers, right?”

The door opened and Chase paused before he completely exited the room. He looked back, his eyes completely green much like His at this point, and gave Marvin that happy smile that previously filled him with contentment and now only incited feelings of disgust at himself and the other, remorse for not seeing and preventing the other’s fall, and hopelessness when he sees the shadows grin victoriously behind Chase.

“Goodnight, big brother. You’ll see the others soon enough.”

With those last words, the door closed behind Chase and Marvin was swallowed up by the darkness.

#jacksepticeye #writersofjack #writers of jack #marvin the magnificent #chase brody #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye egos

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